"In the economic sphere an act, a habit, an institution, a law produces not only one effect, but a series of effects. Of these effects, the first alone is immediate; it appears simultaneously with its cause; it is seen. The other effects emerge only subsequently; they are not seen; we are fortunate if we foresee them ... There is only one difference between a bad economist and a good one: the bad economist confines himself to the visible effect; the good economist takes into account both the effect that can be seen and those effects that must be _foreseen. ... Y_et this difference is tremendous; for it almost always happens that when the immediate consequence is favorable, the later consequences are disastrous, and vice versa. Whence it follows that the bad economist pursues a small present good that will be followed by a great evil to come, while the good economist pursues a great good to come, at the risk of a small present evil." -Bastiat

Seen: the audacious disappointment of the Lakers. Seen: the apparent 70-win season snapped ingraciously from Kobe's hands by the Fates and the limits of the human body. Seen: A cascade of endless injury. Seen: a story of merely-average-and-decent looking suddenly ruinous when sneaking a peek at its price and pathetic prospects. Seen: An almost-literal dismantling by the Spurs. Seen: A desperate reliance on Earl Clark and Metta World Peace and Steve Blake. Seen: Dwight at 50% just long enough for the season to be anything but uphill from the outset. Seen: Some of the worst defense ever, by some of the best players in league history. Seen: Spectacle, frustration, outrage, schadenfreude, spin cycle, eerie commiseration from the unlikeliest fanbase. And, seen: A titan's fall.

Unseen: Hints of a revolutionary offense for two or three possessions at a time, in the right phases of the moon. 1-4-5, 2-4-5, 1-5, 2-5, whispered like cheat codes. Unseen: An owner dying and his team, at its nadir, recovering and making a season respectable through it all. Unseen: a leader of offenses elevating himself to a leader of men, getting himself to the place he needed to be in a seeming blink of an eye, both humbly passive and fiercely aggressive, in the same possession, in the same sentence, Kobe expanding his essential game as surely and as potently as LeBron and Durant, until what is left is something new. Unseen: The epidurals, the labrum torn and the indefinite absences that lasted minutes, the back surgery. Plantar fasciitis. A fanbase learning and accepting the hard truths of anatomy in chagrined mornings after devastating losses. Unseen: the regret after the schadenfreude, where suddenly it stopped being funny that Andrew Goudelock had to start, that Kobe just had to play that 45th minute against Golden State, all of us knowing he'd be alright.

Seen: An organization that doesn't know how to hire a coach. Seen: A coach that doesn't know how to communicate to players. Seen: Kobe leading through conflict (with a strange degree of success), Pau and Nash relegated to the margins, Dwight a young man pushed to the front, whose voice has relevance only because his body and mind have talent. Seen: Players that couldn't adapt, players that could, players that didn't have any choices. Seen: Earl Clark. Remembered: An almost physical anger when Clark started playing, having assumed he was injured, given that Antawn Jamison was getting 20 guaranteed minutes despite having with the transition and half-court defense of a toddler. Seen: A seemingly endless rotation of diminishing returns on number of roster spots. Seen: Role players that never embarrassed the Lakers to play, despite not really being able to play. Seen: Chris Duhon.

Unseen: The dismal bench of the post-Jackson years, having nearly the same problems. Unseen: Mike Brown being universally respected as a man, but in the end not quite commanding the full attention of players or the organization. Unseen: Phil Jackson barely able to walk, touted as a franchise savior for players that could barely lift their arms. Unseen: The subtle decay of age, before or after any trades. Unseen: Andrew Bynum, Unseen (and still an interesting idea): The Princeton offense. Mike Brown with a healthy team.

Unseen: The Lakers problems did not begin this year. Unseen: The Lakers have never made risk-free moves, but have always simply aggregated wise strategic decisions from a position of power as a wealthy, potent larger market. Unseen: Andrew Bynum, for months and longer at a time would sit in the several years before his trade to Philly. Unseen: Andrew Bynum being dominated by Dwight Howard as a prospect from floor to ceiling to upside to downside, even when the NBA collectively exempted him from the 3-second rule on both ends and called half the fouls against Dwight Howard. Unseen: The road not taken, for, as inevitable as it seems, the Lakers could have said "no" to Dwight Howard and Steve Nash last summer. They said yes, because the risks of their status quo were far worse than the risks of their new acquisitions. The Lakers made the right choice time after time, and only bad luck and calculated risk worked against them.

Unseen: Kobe's health problems aggregating every season, far beyond pain and fatigue. Unseen: That the perpetual battle of Kobe against injury was not merely a battle against pain but a battle against decay, against time, against his own apparent limitations as a leader. A losing battle, except on that last count.

Seen: That old cliche "heart of a champion" inasmuch as a seemingly sandbagging defense and an otherworldly collection of talent that dies in the first round can be said to have "heart". The Lakers fought. I saw them. They didn't play possessions; they played games. They were tired and they were banged-up and they were seriously injured. More bone against bone than a butcher shop. And they fought. This could have been a 30 win season that everyone decided to recuperate. But for pride, personal pride and the pride of a franchise, and an asymptotically fading hope that they always seem to stave off for another day, every day, the Lakers knew it was too important, and played. They showed professionalism and class and never acted like they were entitled to a win. They had a gameplan, and they executed it, but horror of horrors, irony of ironies, they did not have the personnel.

They were never out of any game nor could they ever seem to get out of the woods, in a game or in the season. They could have done some damage if more guys were healthier, earlier. Every game seemingly came down to a random like Gerald Henderson missing a tip-in or a tricky Philadelphia team finding a mysteriously truck-sized hole on the interior. I rooted for them to lose, up to the last night of the season, but I also wanted to see their opponents win, if that makes sense, and in the end I finally gave up on rooting for the mediocre and disappointing Jazz over the mediocre and fascinating Lakers. I graduated from hater to... well, still, screw the Lakers, but still... there are things that are seen and unseen about the Lakers that are important to the basketball culture, and this season was a unique look at some of the unseen things - the media cycle really causing the problems as much as it was expressing real problems. Unseen: How important the team is for the game when they're relevant and the chaos that ensued when they weren't. Unseen (and sickening): Every Laker's injuries being used to cast doubt on all his previous accomplishments. I didn't really understand the cable deals and the historical relationship that NBA fans have with the Lakers - the weird 30-faced die all of whose faces read "Beat LA" except one that keeps getting break after break and finally lost more than anyone could have known. I got to see who in the media was actually watching the games. Hint: You have an excuse not to watch the Spurs; you don't have an excuse for the Lakers. I got to see the strengths and weaknesses of every player.

The Lakers had the most interesting season of all the teams this season, and it was not because of hype. No, the Lakers, traditionally they of the limelight and the hype and the spin cycle, played a season that was almost scarily substantive, in which the seen could not hide from the unseen, and in which the unseen haunted every positive moment and tempered every negative moment. Championship runs are sometimes preordained as the world collapses around the team, leaving them only to hold serve and survive. Fun seasons for would-be contenders are derailed by a single injury or a single rotten break, and we laugh sadly about the injury or break and get back to talking about the team's wondrous passing or defense. And we remember these championship and also-ran seasons and talk about them with animation and pride as fans. The Lakers this year weren't a team to talk about with animation. Sure, you could talk about them with the grim certainty of time and the fascinating uncertainty of circumstance, but it's hard to get excited about that. But you could talk about them with pride, and, what's more, give them this: At all times ever-present for the Lakers were distant hope for a title and distant fear of a terrible injury. When the seen and unseen are standing as brothers in the same room, can any dream or catastrophic nightmare that we utter in confidence ever be so justified?

Hey, all. Aaron here. Both Alex and I have an enormous wealth of statistical expertise on our side -- I've got a degree in statistical science and work as a professional statistician in the banking industry, he has a degree in salamander geography and used a calculator once. Given this, as the 2013 Playoffs soldier on, we're planning to occasionally tackle statistical quirks and curiosities we find interesting or elucidating. Answer the questions that we forgot to ask in the first place. Et cetera, et cetera. Today's topic: Denver's mountain air. Or, more accurately, the diminishing returns thereof.

Entering the playoffs, things looked pretty simple for any garden variety prognosticator. Chalk looked poised to reign -- none of the one-through-three seeds in either conference looked even remotely prime for an upset. Teams had either finished the season strong (DEN), faced opponents that were so depressingly injured that they could solve their late-season struggles (SAS), or were simply in a class completely beyond their opponent (MIA). It just didn't look like there were going to be any upsets on the top-line -- if anything, perhaps there'd be an upset in the 4/5 spot, but those are scarcely upsets at all. Chalk, chalk, chalk. Chalk everywhere.

"Well..."

As we stand, the Warriors are on the verge of a monumental upset. Don't sell this Nuggets team short -- they won 57 games, posted a home efficiency differential that makes lambs bleat, and feature a wealth of talent with an excellent play-calling coach. The Warriors limped into the playoffs with a late season slide that took them from a contender for HCA to the verge of the eight seed -- for a short period of time, it actually looked like they were a threat to miss the playoffs. During the 2013 calendar year, the Warriors posted a regular season record of 26-25, just ONE game above 0.500 -- the Nuggets were 40-10. So you must excuse me if I'm hammering the point home a bit: this Nuggets team is a good team, and what the Warriors are doing is reasonably surprising (even if I wrote several good -- and strangely prescient -- reasons why the Warriors had a good shot at the upset in the Gothic Ginobili series preview).

One of the few things we thought we knew going into the playoffs was this: the Warriors couldn't possibly beat the Nuggets at home. That was part of why many smart analysts chose the Nuggets in 5 -- even if the Warriors match up reasonably well with the Nuggets, there was theoretically no threat of Denver dropping any of their home games in the first round. Simply impossible. The Nuggets were 38-3 at home this season. Entering their first round series, they'd won 23 straight home games. Of course, that ended up being a somewhat silly worry -- the Nuggets were a few errant calls and an Andre Miller explosion away from losing game 1, and they got thoroughly embarrassed in a game two blowout that wasn't as close as the 131-117 score made it seem. Down 3-1 with their backs against the wall, it's tough to figure out how to handicap these Nuggets. They WERE unbeatable at home -- are they, still? Or was the appearance of infallibility bunk to begin with? In our first installment of our stat-based playoff feature, I'll examine that question.

• • •

To start out, here's a bit of the "how" behind my examination. We could simply look at win-loss records to see if the Nuggets have lived up to expectations in the playoffs. That's sort of silly, though, because we have a wealth of other information. To try and take into account the severity of the effect and the true measure of Denver's home performances, we'll be looking at Denver's margin of victory in each series since the first round expanded to 4 games in 2003 -- that's 12 series results in 10 playoff appearances by Denver, so we'll have ample room to make a few observations. For each series played, I've compiled the following statistics:

• The basic stats -- Denver's seed in that year's playoffs as well as their W/L record.

• SRS -- Basketball Reference's "SRS" rating for both Denver and their opponent in the given playoff round. SRS is useful for this exercise because it's a pace-adjusted rating measured at a baseline of zero -- a team with an SRS of 7 is 7 points better than average, whereas a team with an SRS of -7 is 7 points worse than average. This means that you can create neutral court expectations with SRS -- that is, a team with an SRS of 2 versus a team with an SRS of -2 would be expected to win a neutral-court matchup between those two teams by four points. If they win by more, they've overachieved. If they win by less, they've underacheived.

• Playoff & Regular Season Home Stats -- how Denver performed at home during that year's playoffs and that year's regular season. Includes playoff W/L as well as the differential in those wins and losses. Same with the regular season. Nice side-by-side look.

• Home Expectations -- Finally, the crux of the analysis lies here. Very simple calculations, because in this case, simplicity lends itself to cleaner analysis. For Denver's "predicted" Home Court advantage, I assume that their home schedule "evened out" in any given season. That is, that their overall home court differential reflects Denver's performance against an average team at home. Then I use the difference in SRS ratings between Denver and their opponent to either add to or subtract from that predicted differential. If they're better than their opponent in SRS, that adds to their predicted home margin. If they're worse than their opponent in SRS, that subtracts from it. Then I simply show the actual playoff home differential minus the predicted home differential. In essence, that gives you a one number view as to whether Denver lived up to expectations, surpassed them, or underwhelmed in any given playoff season. Red indicates an under-performance, green indicates an over-performance, gray indicates too-close-to-call (remember, small sample size means large margin of error -- I rounded to five for this one.)

That's the rundown. Now here's your table.

A few observations to guide you through, here.

First, it's worth pointing out the obvious -- Denver has been astonishingly good at home. Over the past 10 seasons, the Nuggets have gone 3oo-102 at home during the regular season and 291-275 on the road. That's a heck of a split, and I'm reasonably sure that's the largest in the league. They've beaten teams by an average of 7.4 points per game on their home floor over, once again, the past 10 years. There's no low sample size at play in that part. That's a huge sample. They just dominate at home, period. Regular season teams have no remedy for Denver whatsoever.

Second, it's also worth pointing out the again-somewhat-obvious -- Denver isn't nearly as good at home in the playoffs. They're 15-14 at home in the playoffs over that span, and they posted an outright negative point differential at home in 6 of those 12 series outlined above. On average, they've outscored opponents by 3 points over the 29 home games in this study. Given their respective average ratings compared to their opponents and their regular season performance, Denver would be expected to outscore opponents by 6 points per game in those 29 home games. That means that the Denver Nuggets have on the whole underachieved in their playoff home games in the past decade, occasionally by large margins. (In fact, if you take out their outlier series against a wounded Hornets team in 2009, they've underachieved by an average of FIVE points per game below expectations.) Given the data, we can state with relative confidence that Denver simply isn't the same home team in the playoffs that they are during the regular season.

Something's different. But what?

• • •

I've got a few theories. None are airtight, but there's probably a grain of truth to each of them.

• THEORY #1: The atmospheric boon of the regular season is the bane of the postseason. I used to live in the Southwest. Someday, I plan to live there again. The atmosphere is invigorating, and the hiking is sincerely beautiful. Whenever I visit home for a long period of time, I undergo a day or two of calibration before I go on any hikes or big projects. Because it takes a little while to re-acclimate myself to the air and the weather. I have a suspicion that the same is true for an NBA team. The Nuggets have all season to acclimate themselves to the invigorating mountain air of the Denver expanse. In the regular season, though, most NBA teams have one to two days to do that at the very most. In the playoffs? They have significantly more time. As an example... before their game two blowout, the Warriors were in Denver for six straight days. I think they -- and many others over the years -- simply got themselves acclimated to the Denver air. And they nullified the usual Denver advantage.

• THEORY #2: Pace of play bears some responsibility. Over the last decade, the Nuggets have had a number of different teams. But they all seem to exhibit a similar general theme. They rely more on transition points and athletic brilliance than a methodical half-court game -- on both ends of the court! Most of the teams the Nuggets have played in the past decade have had the ability to play slug-it-out halfcourt grinds, slowing Denver to a halt and keeping fastbreak opportunities to a minimum. This obviously applies to their early-aughts playoff games against the grindhouse Spurs, but it also applies to this Warriors team. Consider -- this team relies on Iguodala to steady the foundation of a defense that's rudderless and flagging without him. But Iguodala works better in a free-flowing defensive schema. When you're facing a team that can kill you if you give even an iota of space in a prolonged halfcourt set to the best shooter in the game, a free-flowing defense like the one Karl schemed doesn't work quite as well. You need a dogged insistence on sticking to your man and keeping him from getting open, not a flowing system of switches and band-aids.

• THEORY #3: George Karl's few flaws can be magnified in certain situations. I'm not ready to be one of the hordes of people who are shoveling dirt on Karl's grave or calling him a terrible coach based on the results of a single series, or a somewhat underachieving past. Looking at the numbers, this isn't an insanely awful trend -- it's significant but it isn't life-threatening, I suppose you could say. I'd subscribe to theories #1 and #2 far quicker than I'd entertain anyone trying to tell me Karl's a poor coach, also. Those simply seem like bigger deals to me. And when it comes to designing out-of-bounds plays and building creative offensive systems, coaches I'd rather have at my side are few and far between. ... That said, he has a few odd tics that can doom teams in the playoffs. Those who've followed the Nuggets for extended lengths of time know what I'm talking about. As a recent example from this series in particular, his tendency to ride his veterans over the young talent has almost single-handedly doomed the Nuggets in several games. Andre Miller is one of my favorite players of all time, but he can't guard Stephen Curry at all and just about everyone knows that. Karl still put him on Curry for extended lengths of time, only for Curry to go NBA Jam-type hot against Miller's wizened defense. The Nuggets needed something different, but he stuck to his guns. That's something Karl does from time to time, and it can certainly shave a few points every now and again on a low-percentage move that simply doesn't pan out.

Now, let's step back a bit. The Nuggets can still win this series. They have two home games remaining, and although they're a sub-0.500 road team, the Warriors are as prone to a bad shooting night as anyone. A 3-1 disadvantage with two of three games remaining at home isn't a death sentence. But the Nuggets are on the brink, and it's worth wondering if maybe -- just maybe -- we've been overselling their home dominance all along, all based on a few regular season trends that simply don't apply in the postseason.

Or... it's just God disguised as Stephen Curry. Take your pick, really.

For a background of and explanation of Prognostirank's purpose, click here. In a nutshell? It's a reverse-order ranking of all teams left in the playoffs, prognosticating on their playoff prospects and ranking them from worst to best. We then rate -- on a scale of 1 to 5 bullets -- our confidence in each prediction. Five bullets indicate a "very confident" prediction, one bullet indicates a "substantially wavering" prediction. Today's post outlines teams #5 to #3 -- or, the last second round exit and the results of our projected conference finals. See part one for first round ousters and part two for second round ousters.

• • •

TEAM #5: LOS ANGELES CLIPPERS____ (Western 4th seed: 56-26, SRS of 6.43)

• Series prediction: Clippers WIN in the first round, LOSE in the second round. ( • • )
• Three most likely end results: 7-7; 4-3 then 3-4 ( • • ), 11-10; 4-3 then 4-3 then 3-4 ( • • ), 3-4 ( • • )

This Clippers team is better than you think it is. It really is. I was incredibly close to picking them to upset the Thunder -- I'm on the fence just enough that I went chalk instead, but the Clippers are a good team, and they're better than most people think. While Clipper fans and general league aficionados have made a habit of noting that the Clipper team that won 17 straight games early this season isn't the Clipper team that's come to play in April, there are two main mitigating factors that make me think that particular storyline is becoming overplayed.

• Paul was injured early in 2013. He's been working his way back to health since, and in recent weeks, he's finally looked as healthy as he was during the streak. The Clippers' general performance has reflected this -- L.A. made a strong push for the three seed with a seven-game winning streak to end the year, and what's more, they haven't lost a game in regulation to a lottery team since March 19th. Yes, the Clippers looked pretty awful for a few months, and lost to lottery teams galore. But they certainly haven't lately.

• The vast majority of L.A.'s trouble lies with the bench, not the starters -- I covered this in passing back in late March, and it's held true since. Their once-dominant bench lineups that led to an overestimation of the team's prospects have been absolutely abysmal in recent months. In the playoffs, a team's bench gets fewer minutes and the Clippers get to return to their starters, who are quite the effective bunch. So, yes -- L.A.'s bench was punching above their weight to start the season, then proceeded to punch well below their weight immediately thereafter. In the playoffs, it doesn't much matter WHERE the bench-as-a-whole punches -- on a team like this, the starters are going 40+.

Additionally, this could just be a gut feeling, but I get the sense that in a playoff scenario the Clippers would match up reasonably well against the Thunder. This may seem like an odd statement to make given that the Clippers were quite literally the only Western team the Thunder swept in the regular season -- the Thunder won 117-111 in OT in OKC and won by scores of 109-97 (no Chris Paul, and L.A. had it within single digits in the last minute) and 108-104 in L.A. And that's true. It IS a pretty weird statement to make, given that the Thunder are 4-9 against the other four best records in the league -- San Antonio, Memphis, Miami, and Denver. But 3-0 against the Clippers, and THAT'S their matchup disadvantage? "Sure, Aaron. Makes sense."

Really, though -- each of the games L.A. played OKC was a close contest, and that was despite the fact that L.A.'s bench was god-awful in every game. That bench won't be playing quite as much in a playoff situation. Chris Paul shot 2-14 in OKC's overtime win. I don't see that happening often in a playoff situation. And even with all those mitigating factors, OKC managed naught but a few close wins? Look -- the Clippers aren't unbeatable, and there's a reason I picked them to lose the series. But this isn't going to be some kind of evisceration. With a healthy Chris Paul and a healthy Blake Griffin, the Clippers run a non-systematic offense that thrives on transition buckets and a cobbled-together pick and roll with whatever parts and pieces Chris Paul can salvage from the refuse around him. The Clippers have a few individual pieces that thrive against the Thunder. Chris Paul traditionally does well against Westbrook, and Blake Griffin operates_ very_ well against Ibaka's block-happy ways when he goes up strong and makes it a point to finish. Jamal Crawford is markedly less efficient than Kevin Martin, but Kevin Martin relies on open shots in a Matt Bonner-esque way -- I don't think the gap between Martin and Crawford is going to be nearly as large in a playoff situation as it is in regular season production.

All that said? I still can't pick against a team that won games by an average of 9 points per game, even against an underrated and underappreciated Clippers team that's come a long, long way since the Chris Paul trade.

DEWEY'S TAKE: In D&D alignment terms, this team is neutral-neutral tending towards neutral-evil. Did I get that right, Tim Duncan? I'm sorry, I just don't know the game that well. :sweats: I only bring up alignment because back in the day, Aaron and I came up with an alternative alignment chart for players of a certain position: Solid-neutral-scrappy axis, and a solid-neutral-sketchy axis. This is a quality-independent alignment. You're solid in the first axis if you're like the Spurs or Warriors, getting wins through solid, fundamental play. You're scrappy if you're the underdog getting inexplicable wins. You know, like the Mavs or Jazz (even the Lakers!). Sketch is self-explanatory. Operative example being: Did you ever get a win by whispering a swear in your young impressionable opposing point guard to psyche him out? Then you're sketchy. Why all of this, Alex? Why? Well, because the Clippers are the solid-sketchy team to end all solid-sketchy teams and Chris Paul is their king. Chauncey Billups, Caron Butler, DeAndre Jordan... it's like this team took the old, weird Clippers of 3-5 years ago and made them good without fixing any of their ugly, jaw-chomping weirdness. It's wicked sketchy. And can you possibly be any more solid-sketchy than Vinny Del Negro? His name literally translates to "Lawyer of darkness, comically played by Joe Pesci." That's the literal translation. I think this about says it all.

• • •

TEAM #4: INDIANA PACERS (Eastern 3rd seed: 49-32, SRS of 3.34)

• Series prediction: Pacers WIN in the first & second rounds, LOSE in the ECF. ( • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 11-7; 4-1 then 4-2 then 3-4 ( • • • ), 9-7; 4-1 then 4-2 then 1-4 ( • • ), 7-5; 4-1 then 3-4 ( • • )

I kind of used New York's Prognostirank capsule in the last post to discuss the many merits of the Indiana Pacers in a series against the New York Knicks. So it would be rather fitting to use this post to explain what I meant by the last line of my New York post, where I noted that the Knicks would be the stronger matchup against Miami, even if the Pacers are the better team with a significantly more elite defense. Essentially, it all boils down to their relative strengths. I discussed in the Rockets/Warriors posts why I felt the Rockets and the Warriors had a chance of throwing their first round matchups into possible upset scenarios despite being clearly inferior to the better teams they're facing. Essentially, it's the 2009 Magic theory -- take a ton of threes and barrel into the other team in an effort to force the refs to give you a lot of calls. The threes and the fouls add variance and throw the better team off their game -- it gives you a chance of closing the quality gap in 2 or 3 games of the series on variance alone -- you'll then have 4 chances to simply catch the better team on a bad night and hope you grind one out.

New York, Houston, Golden State -- they all do this. It makes all three of them susceptible to both sides of an upset. You can already see that happening in the NY/BOS series. If the Celtics had an even remotely functioning offense, they would've won game 1 and had a chance of snatching game two. They look weak. But look at the three point shooting -- if New York goes on one of their 45-55% three point shooting nights, they're completely unbeatable. They'd blow out the 1996 Bulls. That's where the variance helps in a series where a team is completely outmatched. Having a high leverage production point where one or two made baskets changes your overall game that much gives you an extra edge. If it can give you 2 or 3 "completely unbeatable" games in a single series, as it so often does? You're golden. You can get situations where the 2009 Magic beat the 2009 Cavaliers. Balky or not, that was an incredible upset and it came on the back of somewhat unsustainable three point shooting. The Knicks can do the exact same thing, every once in a while, and that's why they'd stand a shaky chance to make a series of it against Miami.

The Pacers? They're good. Don't get me wrong. And don't think I've completely given up on the idea that Indiana could upset Miami. There were only two teams in the league that won the season series with this year's Heat -- the Pacers and the Knicks. (Weird stat, huh?) They both have a shot at an upset, even if the Heat are a markedly better team. While the Knicks would try their luck by imposing high variance shot-making, the Pacers would try theirs by forcing low-percentage shot-taking. We often forget that the Pacers thoroughly dominated Miami in their first two contests this season -- the Heat continually lost Paul George off-ball and found themselves stymied by Roy Hibbert's dominance in the paint. In all of the matchups, Paul George did a very good job on LeBron and it made the Heat somewhat mortal. The Knicks could beat the Heat -- the Pacers could too. So... why not pick them instead of Miami?

Miami's better. That's all there is to it.

It's conceivable that the Indiana defense mucks up Miami enough that they can't blow out the Pacers, but it's tough to fathom how Indiana scores as easily as they did in the first two games of the season series over the course of the conference finals. Consider -- Indiana dropped the last game to Miami when they were in the midst of their run-for-the-ages win streak. The Heat found themselves thoroughly befuddled by Indiana's length defensive scheme in the first two games, unable to get good percentage looks up and unable to score when the game was on the line. But in that last win? Miami siphoned offense from an unfamiliar source -- the champs leaned on one of Mario Chalmers' best games ever and tried to feature Chris Bosh in a Toronto-esque Bosh-driven offense. And it worked. The Heat got up big to start the game and the Pacers offense could never quite get in gear enough chip away at the lead. Therein lies the little nugget that keeps me from picking Indiana to win the game -- the Heat are one of the better offenses we've seen in the last several years, and they STILL have wrinkles of versatility that defenses can't gameplan until it's too late. They have such a wide variety of different looks they can give you, and over the course of a series, I trust Spolestra to experiment and tinker each game until he finds a combination that works on that particular night. If Indiana gives Miami even a tiny bit of daylight, and lets them take a 10 point lead? I just don't see how Miami's improving defense lets Indiana's offense back into the game. The Pacers have a shot at the upset, but it's a shot at an upset -- they aren't the favorites, and I can't in good faith pick them to be.

DEWEY'S TAKE: In Hoosiers, there's a great scene where Gene Hackman wakes up in a restaurant, only to find that all the people there speak only in one word - "Malkovich." He has traveled through his own portal.... Wait, sorry, that was Being John Malkovich. Sorry. Anyway, yeah, the point is, that was a movie that took place in the same state as the Pacers now play. And just like Hackman's iconic "Coach Carter" from that film, Frank Vogel has inspired his Pacers to play a brand of defense that is as stifling as it is hip. Hip meaning "in style" and "how Roy Hibbert or David West checks you on a screen; that is, when they aren't outright shoving you". The Pacers are led by all-around savant Paul George, not to be confused with guard Hill George on the same team. The Pacers represent some sort of perfect combination between the Bob Knight and Ron Artest win-at-all-costs insanity on the one hand, and on the other, the total, relatively unimpeachable uprightness of the recent Pacers. They are the most Mike Brown team in the league, until (sources tell me) Mike Brown returns to slay them in the Conference Finals with the Cavs next season. Note: Information in this blurb was provided by many reliable sources, including, and limited to, Mike Brown.

• • •

TEAM #3: SAN ANTONIO SPURS____ (Eastern 2nd seed: 58-24, SRS of 6.67)

• Series prediction: Spurs WIN in the first & second rounds, LOSE in the WCF. ( • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 11-9; 4-2 then 4-3 then 3-4 ( • • • • ), 11-7; 4-2 then 4-1 then 3-4 ( • • • ), 7-6; 4-2 then 3-4 ( • )

Again, Oklahoma City? Why do you have to keep doing this? Why do you hate me?

Alright, that's not quite fair. The 2013 Spurs are an interesting bunch. They're hard to handicap. During this long season, the Spurs have had several moments where they've looked unbelievably dominant -- they've had stretches where they look to combine the all-time great offensive execution of the 2012 Spurs and the Duncan-led defense of the 2007 Spurs, with Bowen replaced by Leonard and Green as the de facto perimeter stoppers. Possession after possession goes by with strong stop after strong stop, not a rotation out of place or an easy shot allowed... all while they whip the ball around at the other end and get wide open threes and at-rim layups. From time to time, the Spurs see fit to embody beautiful basketball. They have moments of unbeatable guile.

And yet... they aren't unbeatable. At all. The biggest problem -- and the struggle that many Spurs fans are having this season -- lies in the disconnect between San Antonio's best moments and their worst moments. The Spurs are supposed to be a hallmark to consistency and dogged persistence. "Lock down every possession. Never take a bad shot. Move the ball." Et cetera, et cetera. This season, though, that hasn't been the case -- this Spurs team is prone to go on 5-6 minute stretches of lazy, uninterested, selfish play. For short stretches, they simply don't move the ball or rotate effectively. They complain to the refs and forget to get back on defense. They take tentative steps and they sulk as Popovich tears into the team with his customary fury. At its best moments San Antonio's defense looks like a title-winning throwback to the ones that won Duncan his rings -- at its worst, it looks like a yet more shoddy imitation of last year's flawed defense. At its best moments San Antonio's offense looks like another generation-defining tour de force in ball movement and brilliant playcalling -- at its worst, it's a ball-sticking offense with no creativity and a general air of disinterest.

The most frustrating part? The Spurs embody both on a game-by-game basis. In the last game of the regular season, San Antonio scored 23 points in six minutes of play against the Timberwolves, with strong defense and insane offense leading their run. They scored 72 points in the other 42 minutes of the game, shooting horribly and playing completely disinterested basketball in a blowout home loss to a terrible team. Same tale-of-two-teams story was true in their recent loss to the Nuggets -- they went a sterling 14-0 in 6 minutes to start the game, then proceeded to get destroyed 96-72 over the other 42 minutes. It's a Jekyll and Hyde thing. Early in the season, that pattern would reverse -- they'd have 42 interested minutes and 6 completely lazy minutes every game. I'd ask "which is the real Spurs team", but that's not right. They're both the "real" Spurs -- this year's Spurs team is an object in contrasts more than any other Spurs team in recent memory. They are a flawed team with a stratospheric ceiling and a subterranean floor, and a team that has an irritating habit of reaching both their ceiling and their floor in any particular game. No lead feels particularly safe -- as a fan -- when simply you don't know what Spurs team you're getting from quarter to quarter. It's a bit mortifying.

San Antonio's title shot hinges on the Spurs limiting their disinterested coasting as the playoffs go on. Their top-tier game is a game that can play with any team in the league. Their bottom-tier game is a game that can get beaten by anyone -- the Bobcats, the Kings, the Hawks without their 4 best players... anyone. For that reason, I just can't pick the Spurs to win the title. I wish I had faith -- I don't. If they play their best, and they play consistently, they can win it all. But because of their inconsistency and their inscrutable lows, I can't pick them to beat a team as good as the Thunder. I can't pick them to go on a hot streak and win the title. They could do it, certainly. They have the talent: in extended minutes, Duncan is the best center in the NBA and Tony Parker is a first-team All-NBA point guard, the 1b to Chris Paul's 1a. Kawhi Leonard is a budding all-star with all-defense potential, and I suspect Manu Ginobili may have one vintage playoff series left in the tank. That's a __killer four-man closing lineup, and it gives you a lot of versatility -- you can pair them with another perimeter stopper in Danny Green and play small, you can pair them with Tiago Splitter and play a modified two-towers, you can pair them with Gary Neal for instant-offense, and you can pair them with Matt Bonner if you want the internet to love you. But if they don't focus? If they coast?

They'll be out early, and their uncharacteristic foibles will be the only thing to blame.

DEWEY'S TAKE: What do I say about the Spurs that I haven't said about the Spurs? Take a thousand-yard view, Alex. The Spurs are a team that historically has combined the best of both worlds, of innocence and experience. Every title they've won has seen unfathomably young and inexperienced players stepping up... but also mentored heavily by unfathomably old and experienced players. Tim Duncan has gone from column A to column B, but he has maintained the best of both worlds himself, crafty worldliness and wiles on one hand, freakish athleticism and mental freshness on the other. A microcosm of the Spurs at large, Tim seems to be able to turn whatever he has on whenever the Spurs have needed him. The remarkable thing about the Thunder series wasn't that the younger team won, it was that the younger team won by elevating itself -- as if in an instant -- to the wisdom and experience of the Spurs. The Spurs' hopes largely hinge on young players such as Kawhi Leonard and Danny Green pulling a similar form of identity theft on the now-tested Thunder.

• • •

A few end-matter notes -- I'll be putting up the final part of the prognostirank series (with my run-down for the finals and my finals predictions) on Wednesday. Note that every single one of my predictions are already chosen -- I haven't been editing the picks to adjust for anything we see in the intervening playoff games, and I'm not gonna start now. I'd like to thank Hoopchalk for their excellent Playoff Preview Capsule series (used for some of the initial scouting here), as well as NBA League Pass and Basketball Reference for the game-watching experience and the stats to draw on when writing these.

Stay frosty, friends.

EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is a fictional tale. It marks the return of "John", Alex Dewey's alternate reality San Antonio ballboy. This story is set after the recent Golden State win over San Antonio's backups.

I was wandering the halls aimlessly when Richard Jefferson stopped me in the halls to explain something. "John, here's a doozy."

"What is it, RJ? I'm busy," I said. I wasn't even being sincere, I was just being a jerk so he'd hurry up. RJ had a tendency to could go on interminably. Without my terse influence checking him at every turn, that is. "Hurry up, RJ!"

"Frig, okay, so one time they got together this panel of Hall of Famers and league observers to choose the 50 best players of all time."

I had heard of this. "Yep. 50 greatest players of the last 50 years? Yeah, I know all about that. James Worthy was there, but I think someone got snubbed, right? Something like that."

"No, not that one," Richard said, and I immediately grew skeptical. "No, that one was in... like, 1996. I'm talking about 2009, when I was with the Bucks."

"Oh. I don't remember that. So what?"

"I was ranked, like, #40, John."

"Of all time? What? You? Richard Jefferson? The man who would forget the ball if it weren't attached by years of tireless practice not to screw up on a basic level? The man with a tattoo of his initials in cartoonish block letters inside a circle? That absurdity of a man, that living anathema to greatness and grace? You? Richard Jefferson? The fortieth best of all time?" I thought of every insult I could that was technically literally accurate.

"Yeah, the very same Richard Jefferson as you see standing before you. I was ranked #40."

"But... how could that have happened? Was there an announcement?"

"Get this, there was a single press statement from the NBA on the Internet. I remember seeing it and getting a few supportive e-mails, like, within minutes."

"WHAT?" I was in utter disbelief. Richard Jefferson had never won a championship; instead his team tended towards likable underdogs that overachieved and never got remotely close to an upset when push came to shove in the trial against the true best team in the league. Tim Duncan, Shane Battier, Manu Ginobili, Chauncey Billups, and Dwyane Wade: These are among the so-called alpha dogs that have knocked off RJ from the playoffs, stymieing his championship ambitions. If you can even call RJ's drifting, always-waning existence any way ambitious. It's a possibility that Richard Jefferson was never even the 40th best player in a singleseason. He'd never earned -- and had scarcely deserved -- even a single All-Star berth.

He was just on a lot of good teams and had apparently made some serious league observers think he was the Nets' proverbial ace in the hole for several years. Sure, he'd had some impressive playoff performances, but I just laughed. I'd seen RJ bumble passes that a child could convert into an easy 2. An inspiring high-flying athlete in his peak (he'd once jumped a file cabinet in the Warriors' front office, just to show he could), Jefferson lacked the feel for the game at the highest levels that tends to weed out such gimmicky high-flyers. But being both athletic enough and fastidious enough to not only keep his job but thrive, Jefferson had still commanded a lot of respect from the people outside the league. An ultimate ambassador, as he was.

"They'd actually singled me out because I was an active player. I still remember it... 'Richard Jefferson of the Milwaukee Bucks, #24, from Arizona.' No. 40 all-time! The press release said they'd be honored with a plaque commemorating their accomplishments. I for one was shocked." Such did Richard reveal his best quality -- his earnest honesty and relentless reasonableness about the whole thing, seasoned with a nice dose of almost pathological humility. He seemed to re-enact his shock with his eyebrows as he told me all of this. "I absolutely did not know what to make of this information."

"I'm seriously doubting this ever happened. Did you dream it? Did you take too much cough medicine the night before, RJ?" I said mockingly. There was a slight hitch in my voice, not unlike Jefferson's characteristic hitch in his shot that had completely destroyed his game in his old age.

"No, I swear this really happened," Richard said sincerely.

"I believe you BELIEVE this really happened, Richard. I just don't know what to make of the possibility that it actually happened. It seems rather absurd on its face."

"Aww, here it goes. OK. Look, the press release calling me #40 was taken down after just twenty minutes up, probably for someone to realize they'd miscalculated a tally or something, I figured," and then he said with confusion, "But they never brought it up again, like it never even happened, that's what was so weird."

"Yeah, that must be a weird thing for you to think happened, but that probably didn't." I said, fully hamming up my doubtful perspective.

"Shut up, John," and I was taken aback by this, "Seriously, shut up, I'm telling a story."

I thought about throwing in a u mad bro, so characteristic of my youthful scorn for any sort of sincere passion, but thought better of it. Richard seemed almost distraught about this omission. "I just wanted to know who was actually there, even if it wasn't me. I'm fine not winning them all, but I feel like I had something taken from me, you know, and I wanted so badly to get it back. I don't have the nice e-mails they sent and I don't have a record of the list, and the NBA never officially acknowledged it. John," he said, "They washed their hands of the one truly supportive gesture of the historical legacy of Richard Jefferson, however absurd you may think him. They washed their hands utterly."

"Damn. Yeah, okay, I can see that," I said with not a little diplomacy in my tone, trying to imagine how Tim Duncan would comfort a teammate that had just missed a game-winner. "So, did you ever find out what happened?"

"Yes, just last week I was visiting the Walton home in San Diego. You must know Luke Walton, we went to Arizona together, and Bill Walton, the legendary center."

"Yeah, I mean, we just played the Cavs a few weeks ago, he was there. And I've seen Bill courtside every once in awhile. He can barely walk."

"That's right, he can barely walk," and Richard was suppressing a smile to get to talk about Bill Walton. "But he loves the game of basketball, John. And he loves his children, and I've always been able to go and talk to him when I've needed to. Yeah, he can barely walk. But he's a very interesting person, to say the least. If you asked him the greatest player of all time on any given day he'd tell you someone different. Some days it would be like Cedric Ceballos, other days it would be Manu Ginobili. Not even kidding. And... for one blessed day, Bill Walton woke up... apparently after I'd made a visit to his family, and he wrote down "Richard Jefferson" and "Luke Walton" as his favorite players of all time. Bill was also one of the people involved in the tallying of the ballots (for reasons passing understanding), and what he told me is that no one had chosen Luke Walton on their lists, but that a couple college observers had remembered my run with Arizona and given me a 50 spot or something. And the way the points were tallied, that was just enough for me to slip into 40th place. _ He told me this all while sipping a gigantic iced tea and lemonade, John._"

"Do you believe him?__" I asked.

"Truthfully," Richard said, "I feel like he could have been telling the complete truth, an utter fabrication, or something far in between. It's not a stretch to give me #50."

"Yes it is," I interjected quickly.

"Damn. Frig. Okay, I mean, yes, it is. But it's not a stretch that someone that watched me in college and sees me in the playoffs my first 5 years and the Olympic team and overrates me in the pros and puts me #50, no?"

"Okay, fine, no, that's not a stretch."

"But yeah, I figure a few guys legitimately give me #50, even #45, and, well, Bill Walton and a couple of his buddies in the Hall get together and say 'Hey, let's put RJ in this thing, he's a nice young man! George Mikan won't mind. Bernard King won't mind.' And they put me at 20 or something, and suddenly they're dealing with a few players like me and a few others that are getting these nostalgic votes that aren't really fair, and so they count up the ballots and decide that they really don't want to honor all the players that got voted in, but they don't want to fudge the vote by getting a legit candidate out of there. So they figure, hey, most of the players that deserve it have already been honored, and the rest probably don't deserve it that much."

"Ah. So they considered scrapping it entirely."

"Yeah, they did. They went ahead with the press release, otherwise I wouldn't have any clue that this had happened, but they went forward with that doubt hanging over it, is what it sounds like from Bill. Again, I'm not sure how far to trust his tale, he once told me eggs were filled with rainbows if you open them at the perfect full moon and put them in front of a telescope and you could eat the rainbow and it would taste like Skittles."

"What in God's name?"

"But I mean, his story about this vote seems pretty legit, no? Sounds like a lot of marketing campaigns that never took."

"Yeah, I guess, RJ."

"My understanding is that they scrapped it as soon as they got the first returns from Stern saying that it was a travesty that I was placed at #40 and that 'he didn't care how much publicity it would cause, it's an embarrassment to lists. Take it down, never mention it again.'"

"And they did."

"I still hold out hope that when Stern is gone they'll put it out there."

"But probably not."

"They probably never will, John, but at least it's a mystery resolved. I can rest easy."

Richard Jefferson, in addition to having an absurd bald head and a bad record in the clutch, apparently had the gift of resting easy. Because I found that I couldn't sleep for the nights following RJ's revalation, furtively tossing and turning in a cold sweat. I thought of all the shams of history that had ever been raised even a shade above mediocrity by a whimsical eccentric peddling nepotism in all his advocacy that the figure in question had happened to visit the day before, or something similarly arbitrary.

I shuddered at these shams that in a hundred years children would be taught to idolize or even emulate in habit, thought, and pattern... for I myself was once a child, brought up in this way! And worst, I thought of the pain - if the soul be immortal - to be one of those shams watching from the afterlife, to know that in a hundred years your poverty of ambition would be falsely rewarded. I shiver.

In the week since that day, I have fretted and bungled my deadlines and obligations in a sort of tragic irony that the Greeks would have relished, thinking of myself remembered falsely as the 40th greatest mop virtuoso of all time. I mop now with a hitch, perhaps for evermore.

Richard smiles as he passes.

For a background of and explanation of Prognostirank's purpose, click here. In a nutshell? It's a reverse-order ranking of all teams left in the playoffs, prognosticating on their playoff prospects and ranking them from worst to best. We then rate -- on a scale of 1 to 5 bullets -- our confidence in each prediction. Five bullets indicate a "very confident" prediction, one bullet indicates a "substantially wavering" prediction. Today's post outlines teams #10 to #5 -- or, the last two first round exits and the first three second round exits. See part one for first round ousters.

• • •

TEAM #10: GOLDEN STATE WARRIORS____ (Western 6th seed: 47-35, SRS of 1.32)

• Series prediction: Warriors LOSE in the first round. ( • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 ( • • • • ), 7-6; 4-2 then 3-4 ( • • • ), 5-6; 4-2 then 1-4 ( • • )

I struggled with this one quite a lot. Probably more than I should've. All things considered, the Nuggets should pulverize the Warriors. They're faster, better, smarter, stronger. They're deeper, and they've got ample personnel to take care of Golden State's biggest weakness; that is to say, an at-rim sieve by the name of David Lee, who's consistently a step slow and weak to contest. With Lee in the game for 35-40 minutes, it's hard for me to really visualize how the Warriors intend to stop the Nuggets from scoring 70 points in the paint per game. And if the Nuggets get that done, it's hard to see how the Warriors keep them off the line enough to guarantee the win. If there's one thing that kills the Warriors, it's that -- their interior defense is simply not up to par when facing off against a team like the Nuggets that drives the ball straight into their heart. Simply not.

That said? The Warriors have a few advantages of their own, mainly centered around Stephen Curry. While Ty Lawson ended the year balky and injured -- as did Tony Parker, Steve Nash, and virtually every point guard in the West's playoff picture not named "Russell Westbrook" -- Stephen Curry ended the year on a crazy hot streak. Curry shot 51% from three over his final 4 regular season games, and he's been doing it on vastly increased shot volume. Broadening the sample size... over the final month of the regular season (17 games), Curry shot an average of TEN THREES A GAME. That isn't a typo. The man shot 47% over those 17 games on ten threes a night. That's incredible. To put it in perspective... the 2003 Minnesota Timberwolves, the Garnett-led team that won 51 games and finished with the 4th seed in the West, shot 10 threes a game. As a team. Stephen Curry, by himself, shot as many threes per game over the past month as everyone on the 2003 Minnesota Timberwolves combined. And he made 47% on them. The man is insane.

Outside of Andre Iguodala's defensive masterwork, the Nuggets are a relatively poor team when you get out to the perimeter -- whether shooting it or defending it. The key to the series, for the Nuggets, is simply going to be keeping the ball out of Stephen Curry's hands. If they want to make this a short series, they'll need to force Curry pass out of traps coming up the floor and to shut down all passing lanes to the Golden State superstar. He'll get his points regardless, but they need to keep his three point shooting under wraps. If Curry is allowed to shoot 10-12 threes a night, the Warriors have an excellent shot of winning the series outright -- Curry shot over 60% on threes against Denver this season despite Iguodala's defense, mostly because Iguodala's more important as a roaming defensive presence than as a lock-in guy in the Denver scheme. If Curry's presence forces Iguodala to function more as a shut-down player than he has in Denver's system traditionally, that could give the Warriors an opening for the upset. More likely, their porous interior defense dooms them in the end -- but I still feel like they'll give Denver a hell of a push.

DEWEY'S TAKE: One game over .500 this calendar year (26-25), a negative point differential against the Western Conference, and the best single season a three-point shooter has ever had. Deep bench, towel waves, bronze icons in the golden light of Oracle Arena, the Warriors are middling (occasionally stagnant) on offense and middling on defense over the course of the season, and don't have a center. On any given night two or three offensive savants plus a rookie or veteran stepping up. Effortful, relatively futile defense, pull-up jumpers in transition. Their coach is a minister and a showman and a legendary floor general. They also have Richard Jefferson as a comically irrelevant player and veteran presence. They send their tiniest player through a golden gate of big men to get some space to shoot an insensibly high-arcing 3 from the top of the key. One of the most fun and watchable teams ever when they're on.

• • •

TEAM #9: MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES (Western 5th seed: 56-36, SRS of 4.33)

• Series prediction: Grizzlies LOSE in the first round. ( • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 ( • • • ), 3-4 after 4-3 ( • • ), 2-4 ( • • )

I oscillate back and forth on how competitive I view this series. On one hand, Memphis is the far superior defensive team, and they're good enough to make a legitimate title run. They really are. If you'd given me Memphis against anyone in the Western Conference -- yes, even OKC -- I'd pick Memphis in a hot second. Frank Vogel described Indiana's style of play as "smashmouth basketball" -- cute, Frank, but we all know you're jacking the Grizzlies' swagger. The Grizzlies kill you with screens, they kill you with reaches, and they muck your game up until you're screaming for help. They're incredible. But the Grizzlies have three massive problems heading into this series against the Clippers, and exactly none of the three involves the man once known as Udy-Ray.

1. Marc Gasol's abs. Yeah, yeah. I'm sure they're rippling, man, that's not the point. Marc Gasol suffered an abdominal tear on March 23rd, about one month ago today. I'm not entirely sure it's going to be a problem, but I can't be sure it won't be. If his mobility is compromised, the Grizzlies are a markedly more beatable team.
   _
2. Zach Randolph's everything. This is another big problem for the Grizzlies. Randolph is a great player, but he's older than you think -- the man's just about 32 years old and he's been suffering injuries and setbacks for virtually the entire season. Randolph averaged a career low in points per possession this season, and posted his least efficient performance from the field since his stint with the disastrous 2008 New York Knicks. A big man who spends much of the game operating on the block simply shouldn't be shooting 46% from the floor. That's not good. Worse yet, he's been slumping even more as of late -- Randolph averaged 14-10 on 41% shooting over his last 15 games. When Marc Gasol's mobility is a bit lessened and the Grizzlies are more and more dependent on Randolph's production, that's not going to beat the Grizzlies.
   _
3. They lack HCA. This is big. In last year's series, the Grizzlies very nearly pulled it out -- their loss in game one was an aberration of the highest degree, but of the 7 games in that series, there were only three blowout-tier games -- game one (which, again, the Grizzlies lost due to a Nick Young hot stretch), game five (which the Grizzlies dominated), and game seven (which... OK, yeah, the Clippers beat the Grizzlies at home to close out the series, the world's confusing sometimes.) The Grizzlies and the Clippers ended the season with identical home/away records -- both teams were 32-9 at home and 24-17 on the road. In the obvious absence of a health advantage, it'd behoove Memphis to have every tertiary advantage possible. Unfortunately, home court advantage won't be one of those.

Aren't those kind of a big deal? Compound that against the fact that they're facing the Clippers -- a team that matches up well with Memphis in the playoffs and a team that stars Chris Paul -- and I just have trouble seeing how they pull it out in seven. I'm picking the Clippers, and although I'm picking them to bow out in seven, I wouldn't be altogether shocked if they ended up bowing out a bit earlier. (And, that said -- if they make it to the second round, I imagine they'll be exactly as strong a challenge to OKC as LA would/will be.)

DEWEY'S TAKE: Grindhouse. Memphis. Beale Street. Barbecue. Stax Records. Big men. Z-Bo eating a dozen ribs and then wiping the sauce on an opponent's jersey - for ever. Tony Allen. Mike Conley Jr., born in 1987, evokes a man 10 years his older, and from the early 70s, such is his beard. Lionel Hollins. Echoes of the 77 Blazers through and through, up to and including no three point shot. Bill Walton loves this team I bet. Ethereally possessed of "the right stuff," team's jersey should have a chip on its shoulder, and in basketball terms, they hold more than danger - they hold coherency and a superiority of aspect - to every team that they face. The team you'd least like to be in a fight with.

• • •

TEAM #8: BROOKLYN NETS____ (Eastern 4th seed: 49-33, SRS of 1.25)

• Series prediction: If Nets WIN the first round, they LOSE in the second round. ( • • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 1-4 after 4-3 ( • • • • ), 2-4 after 4-3 ( • • • ), 0-4 after 4-3 ( • )

If this were a true ranking, where the prognostication wasn't feeding into the cardinality of my rankings, I'd probably put the Nets below the Grizzlies, the Warriors, the Lakers and the Rockets. This isn't to say that I don't respect what the Nets have done this season -- they're a really solid team, no doubt, and Brook Lopez has been everything everyone ever wanted him to be. With Deron Williams rounding into form to finish the year, they've finally taken on the shades of eternal bridesmaid swagger we expected going into the season. Not really good enough to seriously challenge for a title, but good enough to beat up bad teams. (NOTE: Without a healthy Noah or Rose, Chicago is a bad team. Sorry, Chicago.) I imagine this will come to a screeching, blood-curdling halt in the second round when the Nets face off against Miami. Just an educated guess.

And -- much like the Knicks -- we're looking at the best Brooklyn team we can expect to see in the forseeable future. Hence the eternal bridesmaid swagger; not really good enough to contend for a title, not bad enough to be an abomination to the game of basketball. Don't get me wrong, though. This is a step forward for the Nets. Over the past 4-5 seasons, the Nets have been legitimately unwatchable. They've been atrocious, and the fans have noticed. Cannibalizing Atlanta's eternal bridesmaid in an effort to relocate their eternal bridesmaid to Brooklyn may seem silly, but for a franchise that hasn't really done much of anything since Jason Kidd was around these parts, it's a decent step forward into respectability.

As for how they match up with the Heat? Badly, straight up. Chalmers and Wade (when both are locked in) do a reasonably good job cutting off Deron's lanes and keeping the Nets out of rhythm. LeBron James is just the sort of athletic freak of nature that Lopez and Wallace have trouble covering, and LeBron's knack for rebounding is going to give Miami extra offensive possessions when Brook Lopez is too busy boxing out Udonis Haslem and Chris Andersen to get the board. Their rebounding issues are going to necessitate playing Reggie Evans big playoff minutes, which is going to slash their offensive potential in order to barely stay even on the glass with the Heat. Problems! Compound all that with the fact that Joe Johnson's defense has fallen off a cliff this year? I don't really see how the Nets stop Miami. At all. In any way. I think they take a game, because sweeping teams is tough. But let's just say I wouldn't be wholly shocked if Miami entered the Eastern Conference Finals with an 8-0 playoff record, either.

DEWEY'S TAKE: I haven't watched them much, why are they eighth? They remind me of the Joe Johnson Hawks, and I can't figure out why. Maybe it's the slew of inexplicably underwhelming point guards. Maybe it's that they play big 1 to 4. Maybe it's the interchangeably gritty bigs with poor shot selection or the literal inability to hit shots (*cough* Gerald Wallace). Maybe it's the sense that they're a mediocre team with a lot of big names and nothing obviously fundamentally wrong on paper but a sense that a team that goes 13-17 against the West doesn't much belong in the playoffs. No, wait, I figured it out: They actually have Joe Johnson.

• • •

TEAM #7: DENVER NUGGETS____ (Western 3rd seed: 57-25, SRS of 5.37)

• Series prediction: If Nuggets WIN in the first round, they LOSE in the first round. ( • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 after 4-3 ( • • • • ), 1-4 after 4-3 ( • • • ), 3-4 after 4-3 & 4-3 ( • • )

I grappled with this one a while. Let's be clear -- the Spurs have been playing absolutely abysmal basketball to finish their Regular Season. They shot 31% from three in their final 10-15 games and allowed teams to pulverize them, both in the paint and on the perimeter. San Antonio's contests became sluggish, their rotations befuddling, their demeanor lifeless. They looked like a team that would get blown out in the first round, regardless of who they faced. That said, there were some mitigating factors. Diaw was injured and playing scant minutes. Tony Parker was in and out of the lineup with an ankle problem that Pop refused to let him play through. Kawhi Leonard was dealing with a bum elbow, and Tim Duncan showed the sort of on-again off-again focus you'd expect from a 37-year-old big man in the last stretch of a virtually meaningless regular season. If THAT Spurs team shows up to play in the second round, Denver sweeps the series. I'm not kidding around.

But you know what? I'm not letting the Spurs fool me. I don't know how much faith I have in this squad to win the title. At their best, this San Antonio team is a unit that can play with any other team in the league. The Clippers, the Thunder, the Heat all included. The Spurs aren't likely to be at their absolute best against the Nuggets in round two, given that Diaw (a surprisingly important part to San Antonio's strategy) will return to action in game two of the series and will require a game or two to get back into his trailblazing new definition of "game shape." But Manu Ginobili looked somewhat healthy in practice footage and in-game play to close the regular season, Tony Parker has an entire series against a paper-soft L.A. perimeter defense to get his mojo back, and Tim Duncan at his worst is still worlds better than any big man that Denver puts on the floor in this series.

And honestly? I won't let Denver fool me, either. Denver has had a wonderful season. With Gallo healthy, I could see an outside chance of them making a run. But let's be straight for a moment. Without Danilo Gallinari, the Nuggets lose their primary perimeter threat and one of their best defenders. The Nuggets are a team with enviable depth, but "enviable depth" and "completely replaceable stars" simply aren't one in the same. They lack perimeter threats that are going to kill you if you pack the paint, and their defense is predicated on Andre Iguodala legitimately doing it all over a seven game stretch. Ty Lawson's defense has taken a step back with his injured season, and George Karl has yet to find a rotation of bigs that really challenges elite teams defensively.

Furthermore, although the Nuggets have one of the better home court advantages in the league, I'm not sure I buy the idea that their home court dominance can be cleanly translated to the playoffs. In a playoff situation, teams get 2-3 days of relaxing and preparing in the city to adjust for the altitude and the general idiosyncrasies of the Colorado climate. Heck, think of it this way -- when Golden State plays game two of their first round series against the Nuggets, the Warriors will have spent a full six days in Denver, preparing and practicing. Whatever advantage the Nuggets get from the altitude-related hangups fade when the team's rest time is completely equivalent. This bears true over the last few years of Denver playoff games, too -- the Nuggets were 2-1 at home in 2012 (6 seed), 1-1 at home in 2011 (5 seed), 2-1 at home in 2010 (5 seed), and 8-2 in 2009 (2 seed).

Small sample size, but the general point remains; the Nuggets aren't an unbeatable home team in the playoffs, and given that this incarnation is such a poor road team, I find it hard to see how they pull out a close series against another Western elite. Of course, if the Spurs play like they've been playing lately, they aren't a Western elite. And the Nuggets can book their trip to the Western Conference Finals. I just don't see it. Not with the Nuggets missing Gallo, not with the Spurs getting all their players back right as the series starts, not with Denver's home court advantage being a mite bit more shaky when they aren't facing garbage teams every other night with rest advantages and less than 24 hours to adjust to the air. The Nuggets are a wonderful team, and they're a credit to Masai Ujiri's teambuilding and George Karl's incredible coaching. But I still think their run is going to end tantalizingly short of their second Western Conference Finals berth.

DEWEY'S TAKE: If you were Andre Miller you could see the universe from the top, could see all of time in a single unbroken line, you would find flowers from Big Bang to star fuel to lava to soil to seed to bloom and then to decomposition of the aforementioned in reverse order. You would find that you had planted many flowers in the form of basketball plays, and you would know mercy. And, knowing eternity, you, Andre Miller, would be placid, whatever comes of this series. Because you have set dunks in motion, you have sent missives to a cutter saying "Just in Time". You are irreducible. If a lock of hair falls out during a game, another immediately replaces it. And you know that this Nuggets team is not really as good as +11 at home, nor as bad as +0 on the road. You will know balance. You see the unbroken flowering from JaVale McGee to the NBA Finals.

• • •

TEAM #6: NEW YORK KNICKS____ (Eastern 2nd seed: 54-28, SRS of 3.73)

• Series prediction: Knicks WIN in the first round, LOSE in the second round. ( • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 after 4-1 ( • • • ), 4-3 after 4-1 ( • • • ), 1-4 after 4-1 ( • • )

While the Knicks aren't a great team, predicting them to bow out to the Indiana Pacers would represent a slightly strange result for the league. After all, Carmelo Anthony is an MVP candidate that seems assured to get a top-5 spot in the voting. Mike Woodson is a coach of the year candidate with the greatest goatee in the history of the craft. Tyson Chandler is the reigning defensive player of the year. The Knicks won 5 more games in the regular season and enter the series with home court advantage. The Knicks are one of the best offenses in the league, and the Pacers defense has been collapsing over the season's final stretch. The Pacers offense is putrid. All of those things are true, at least in part, but they miss a few key caveats to each point that change the game.

First, yes, Carmelo Anthony IS an MVP candidate. He was virtually unguardable for a month to start the season and a month to finish the season. He was also eminently easy to guard for several months of the season while he was working through injury and keyed on by good defenses. Those aren't mutually exclusive, and it points to the difference between the LeBron/Durant/Paul tier of MVP candidates and the lesser lights below them. Those three are legitimately impossible to consistently guard. They don't have any particular tells. You can't goad them into taking bad shots. You can't force them to a place of discomfort. Traditionally, when you slow the game down into a halfcourt contest? You can do that with Melo. You can goad him into bad shots, and you can keep him in check. He's an MVP candidate because he's having his best season -- he's not an MVP candidate because he's an impossible-to-guard force of nature with a chip on his shoulder. There's a difference. It's important.

Second, you have the coaching matchup -- Woodson IS a coach of the year candidate, but Indiana coach Frank Vogel's no chopped liver. He's shown himself to be an excellent tactician and a grade-A motivator. Woodson's proven that he's a decent coach, but the coaching matchup is a push at best. Tyson Chandler IS the reigning DPoY, but he's also had an incredibly disappointing season that's seen the New York defense take a furious nosedive into impotence and woe. Chandler's great, when he's healthy. He's not. He hasn't been all season, and New York's defense has essentially fallen apart in his absence. The Knicks DID win five more games, but that's a really misleading stat -- even after Indiana's late season slide and even considering their early season fog, the Pacers and Knicks have virtually identical overall efficiencies, and if you translate their efficiency differential to projected records, the Knicks would be projected a record of 53-29 and the Pacers would be projected a record of 52-29. They're simply not as far apart as the NBA standings would indicate. This is a wholly even matchup, star power be damned.

Finally, you have what I consider the most important part of my "Indiana beats New York" prediction. Yes, the New York offense is one of the best in the game, and the Indiana defense has looked a bit shaky lately. But if you watch the tape -- and I watched entirely too much to make this pick, let me tell you -- the Pacers defense simply isn't struggling as much as the numbers make it seem. It really isn't, and I think Frank Vogel understands that. Teams ended the season making an inordinate amount of tough shots against strong contests and strong rotations. Sure, the Pacers got a bit lazy -- and Vogel benched their best players a bit to freshen them up for the playoffs. But the fundamentals of Indiana's defense are absolutely still there, and their biggest fundamental strength (that is, the fact that everyone in their core rotation is monstrously huge and lengthy for their position) isn't going to evaporate just because a few opponents made tough shots to end the season.

More interesting, to me? Indiana's offense -- admittedly putrid for most of the year -- is finally starting to show some signs of life. All season, Indiana's had to run plays through David West and pray that things work out. Roy Hibbert has finally seen a return-to-form for his previously absent jump hook, Paul George has been getting open more successfully than he was in the early stretches of the season (although, to be fair, he's been missing a lot of open shots too), and the Pacers in a general sense look like a team whose play has been besieged by missed open shots on their end and made contested shots on the other end. Their struggles don't really resemble San Antonio's complete collapse in the last quarter of the season, at least not to me -- their struggles seem far easier to fix, and for that reason, I think the Pacers shock this Knicks team.

As for why things look grim on New York's end? They're a team that's reliant on Steve Novak getting the space to shoot in a playoff situation (Hey, look! It's Bonner 2.0!) against a stout defensive team, Melo/Cope/Shump shooting over 37% from three against the kind of length Indiana will show them on the perimeter, Jason Kidd shooting 35% from three against ANYONE, and their defense keeping West/Hibbert out of the paint and Paul George out of his comfortable spot-up shots. I just don't see it. (... Which is quite the shame, because New York going on a 2009 Magic-esque shooting streak is probably the only way the Heat bow out before the finals. But I'll get to that later.)

DEWEY'S TAKE: This is a team that seems to ebb and flow based purely on chance in the Melo Era. 2.5 years, and there is still no correlation between anything that happens. Linsanity happened, and then it didn't. Amar'e got injured and then he wasn't. Same with all the others. They'll probably at least make a solid case to go to the ECF and with all their 3-point shooting (and Miami's), they at least have variance on their side for a Finals Run. They have a knack for looking like the best team in the league for stretches and a middling faux-contender for stretches. I don't know. I don't really like their chances, and I could see them, like, going scoreless for entire quarters when Miami closes out on their shooters, I could also see them taking care of the ball, not allowing Miami to get into its deadly transition, and just flipping a coin ten times and having 9 of them come up heads.

• • •

A few end-matter notes -- I'll be putting up the next part of the prognostirank series (with the last second-round exit -- my pick for the loser of LAC/OKC, if you're counting -- and my conference finals predictions) on Wednesday. Note that every single one of my predictions are already chosen -- I will not be editing the picks to adjust for anything we see in the intervening playoff games. I'd like to thank Hoopchalk for their excellent Playoff Preview Capsule series (used for some of the initial scouting here), as well as NBA League Pass and Basketball Reference for the game-watching experience and the stats to draw on when writing these.

Stay frosty, friends.

For a background of and explanation of Prognostirank's purpose, click here. In a nutshell? It's a reverse-order ranking of all teams left in the playoffs, prognosticating on their playoff prospects and ranking them from worst to best. We then rate -- on a scale of 1 to 5 bullets -- our confidence in each prediction. Five bullets indicate a "very confident" prediction, one bullet indicates a "substantially wavering" prediction. Today's post outlines teams #16 to #11 -- or, the six teams most likely to bow out early.

• • •

TEAM #16: MILWAUKEE____ BUCKS (Eastern 8th seed: 38-44, SRS of -1.82)

• Series prediction: Bucks LOSE in the first round. ( • • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 1-4 ( • • • • • ), 0-4 ( • • • ), 2-4 ( • • )

All things considered, the Milwaukee Bucks are not a very good team. They're the only playoff team that ended the year with a losing record, and their final point differential was actually worse than three teams that miss the playoffs. While they made a mid-season trade with the intent of bolstering their rotation, there's been virtually zero evidence that the Redick trade has improved their team and ample evidence they made a slight miscalculation in sending out Tobias Harris. Live and learn, I suppose. To make matters worse, they happen to be matched up against the best team in the NBA. The question with the Bucks is less "can they beat the Heat?" and more "can they take a few games from the Heat?" Popular opinion says no -- I'd say they've got a fighting chance at snagging a game or two, and possibly pushing it to seven. It's not incredibly likely, but it wouldn't be some kind of game-changing shocker either.

A few reasons for that. First, the turnovers -- for all of Milwaukee's numerous faults (poor shooting, confused offensive playbook, lack of free throws), they've always been particularly good at taking care of the ball. That's what happens when three of your players are legitimate NBA ballhandlers and your bigs don't tend to fumble, I suppose. While that doesn't exactly scream "upset potential", it DOES scream "they can win a home game", if you consider Miami's occasional over-reliance on ballhawking on the defensive end. Second, you've got the talents of John Henson and Larry Sanders, two bigs who have traditionally had relative success against Miami's defense, particularly when matched onto the smaller Shane Battier. Finally? Sheer statistical randomness. If Ellis or Jennings have a game or two where they get unreasonably hot and start draining guarded three point shots, the Heat are going to have a bit more trouble sweeping this team away.

All that said, this isn't exactly rocket science. I just outlined reasons that the Milwaukee offense could (and should) rally to win a game against the Heat -- I didn't outline reasons they could win the series. Barring a massive upset the likes of which the NBA hasn't seen in eons, this is a 4-5 game series. The Bucks have no particular defensive scheme that handles the Heat's multifaceted offense, and they're absolutely screwed if the Heat actually come out to play every night. If the Bucks push this series to six games -- getting their requisite 6 home games -- it'll be a big upset. Sorry, Milwaukee -- you're the first team gone.

DEWEY'S TAKE: A tremendous collection of talent, loosely tied together. Unintentional feeding factory for every other team, in terms of prospects. Have - at any given time - seven players that will be part of an NBA championship in the next five years, none of them with the Bucks. Trade machine stimulant, perennial 38-win team, alternately likable and mechanically unworkable, except in stretches. Richard Jefferson's Inferno.

• • •

TEAM #15: ATLANTA HAWKS____ (Eastern 6th seed: 44-38, SRS of -0.08)

• Series prediction: Hawks LOSE in the first round. ( • • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 1-4 ( • • • • ), 3-4 ( • • • ), 2-4 ( • • )

The Hawks confuse me. A lot. In a much-publicized move, the Hawks chose to essentially cede the final 3 or 4 games of their season in an effort to tank from the 5 seed to the 6 seed. The end goal wasn't some expressly outlined matchup advantage against the Pacers -- it was simply to avoid the Heat in the second round, manipulating the bracket such that the first time they could possibly see Miami would be the Eastern Conference Finals. On one hand, that made sense -- the Heat are far and away the class of the Eastern Conference, and by manipulating your matchup advantages to ensure you meet them later, you're taking the long view and trying for an Eastern Conference Finals instead of a second round ouster.

All sounds good in theory, but then you get to the whole... actually looking at the matchups thing. And of all the teams in the Eastern Conference, not a single one -- perhaps not even Miami! -- matches up better with the Hawks than the Pacers. Not a single one. Larry Drew's post-Johnson offense relies on a fluid give-and-take around the perimeter, shooting the ball around from player to player and relying on Al Horford and Josh Smith's pivot passing to keep the shots flowing. It hasn't worked quite as well as Larry Drew would perhaps hope, with their final product rating out as a below-average offense with relatively poor spot-up shooting (despite the usually open looks) and a penchant for semi-guarded midrange shots besides. This Hawks team makes more of its noise on defense, where the combination of Smith and Horford tends to shut things down in the post (especially against smaller opposing bigs) and where their perimeter defenders (Teague, Stevenson, Korver, et cetera) gamble as a general rule. It works reasonably well against most teams.

Here's the issue -- Indiana isn't most teams. Atlanta's motion offense requires open passing lanes; Indiana's punishing defense requires obliterating them. Atlanta's defense requires that Smith and Horford can match the size of the opposing bigs; Indiana's bigs are stronger and smarter than Atlanta's. Atlanta's overall game requires a decent helping of two-point smallball with Harris and Teague on the court at the same time (their best two-man combination, on the season); Indiana's end-state goal is to goad other teams into smallball that gives Indiana a 2-3 inch height advantage at every single position. Atlanta was 2-2 against Indiana on the season, but the record is something reflecting fool's gold -- one of their wins was in Indiana's first few Grangerless games, and the other was a tight home win where Lou Williams went off for 22-3-12. With Williams, this Hawks team was a significantly better squad and had a much better chance of winning a series like this. Without him? I just don't see how they get it done, unless Indiana completely breaks down. And, let's be fair, Indiana's looked pretty bad lately. But they still should have enough in the tank to beat the Hawks. And beat them handily, too.

DEWEY'S TAKE: Every game is a plea to the Basketball Gods to stop the game forever. Always cosmically, deceptively unwatchable. Every year, like the spring, we hope for a cool rain of justice to fall upon us and give us a watchable Hawks team and justice, and the gods, simply deny us. Often in theory the Spurs, in practice the Blazers, but less fun, and if the Rose Garden were replaced with a warehouse in Atlanta.

• • •

TEAM #14: BOSTON CELTICS____ (Eastern 7th seed: 41-40, SRS of -0.62)

• Series prediction: Celtics LOSE in the first round. ( • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 1-4 ( • • • ), 3-4 ( • • • ), 6-7 ( • )

This is the first one I'm not exceptionally confident in. I don't see how exactly the Celtics win the series, but after years and years of outperforming my expectations, I'm not quite ready to completely write off Doc Rivers' boys. I'm still ready to partially write them off. Because my lord, they've looked bad this season. Look. When the Celtics have been slept on in previous years, they were never quite this bad. They had Rondo, and they won their Division every single year of the Big 3 era. That means they had a top 4 seed waiting for them, and a shot at one of the East's worst teams in the first round as something of a tune up. And they needed it, too -- with the exception of their 2011 sweep of the Knicks and their 2010 win-in-five against a talentless injured Miami team, first rounds have been a little nerve wracking for Celtics fans. Seven game nail-biters in 2008 and 2009, six tough games in 2013, and a general sense that the Celtics needed the first round as a tuning period to iron out the kinks.

Well, bad news. This year, the Celtics are the bad team -- they're one of the worst teams by-the-numbers in the playoffs, with a dismal offense and a defense that can only be described in true Red Green Show style as "alright, I guess." Avery Bradley has put himself in contention for an all-defensive team with his defensive play (although he's still a bit behind Tony Allen and Andre Iguodala to these eyes) and Kevin Garnett is still a beast on that end. Jeff Green is a competent defender individually, even if he takes off rotations and doesn't quite know the system yet. But nobody else on the team beyond those three guys really can execute Doc's system with any considerable success without Rondo or a younger Pierce, and their offense is a confused jumble of Jeff Green breakout nights, Jeff Green tepid nights, and the occasional times when everything comes together.

All that said, I have trouble picking strongly against them. I'm still picking them to lose the series, and I have a feeling it'll be one of those matchups that either ends in five lopsided games or goes down to the wire. But I wouldn't be completely shocked if Pierce had a throwback series, Green had a breakout series, and the Celtics got everything together just in time to rally past a high-variance Knicks team that has a few poor shooting nights. It's not likely, mind you, which is why I'm still picking New York -- they were a FAR better team this season, and they deserve to be the favorite. But the Celtics are not a team one can simply look past and scoff at, even with their troubles this season. This one's one of the few Eastern match-ups I'm actually interested in.

DEWEY'S TAKE: Grindhouse. Welcome to it. TD Garden. Tradition. Sportswriters. Bill Russell. Larry "The Legend From French Lick" "But Not a Hawk" Bird. Al Jefferson. Tony Allen. Kevin Garnett. Grindhouse. Age. Wisdom. Hurtin'. 5 years after.

• • •

TEAM #13: CHICAGO BULLS____ (Eastern 5th seed: 45-37, SRS of -0.01)

• Series prediction: Bulls LOSE in the first round. (• • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 (• • • • ), 2-4 ( • • • ), 5-7 ( • • )

Were I making this prediction early in the season, I'd probably have picked Chicago. But recent events have me a lot lower on their chances. Thibodeau recently announced that Joakim Noah is likely to miss some or all of Chicago's first round series with a variety of soreness-related injuries and general maladies. With Noah around, this Bulls team is an excellent defensive unit that can put a scare into anyone. Without him? I'm not entirely sure how they keep the series competitive. The Nets are a better-than-most think team, and putting Nazr Mohammad on Brook Lopez is going to work about as well as casu marzu on pizza. Jimmy Butler is really, really solid -- he's an excellent prospect and an excellent value pick, but Butler and a burnt-out Deng doesn't give me a ton of confidence against a Nets team that's entering the playoffs relatively healthy and coherent.

Additionally, I just don't see how New Jersey has to fight to defend the Bulls. Brooklyn is an abysmal defensive team, but they don't have too many injuries to speak of and Chicago's offense is just as lifeless and drab as their defense. Defending a team with an offensive "system" like Chicago is defense on easy mode. Chicago's offense basically boils down to a movement or two back and forth between a guard and a big, some aimless dribbling as their teammates refuse to seek out position, and a sudden realization that the shot clock is down to 5 seconds and they need to shoot it. End result? A lot of midrange jumpers -- a LOT of them. Most of them reasonably well contested, too. This has gotten even worse as of late with Joakim Noah out, who augments his defensive value with essential post passing and strong screens to free up their guards. It's rough.

All that said, if Noah comes back mid-round and the Nets punch under their weight (neither of which are particularly outlandish thoughts), the Bulls could win the series pretty handily. This series strikes me as one of those "Hawks/Heat 2009" type affairs -- it will be well-contested, long, and (probably) vindicating for one of the two fanbases at war. But by dint of combining an offense so terrible with a defense so terrible, the series will also be virtually unwatchable by anyone who doesn't love pain. Come back soon, Derrick! (Not this season, but someday, please.)

DEWEY'S TAKE: Main story's always Thibodeau because his players come and go because of injury. As you well know, Thibs' Bulls innovatively have seven players on the court at any time, plus Thibodeau himself torturing his opponents with his heavy-metal, sleep-deprivation-for-listener-and-speaker voice. He packs the box (the basketball court) with more players than the other team, because of a clever (and tenacious) misreading of zone defense rules. His players' minutes always threaten to break Wilt's 48+ record every season. Thibs hates Nate Robinson, but is more willing than you to immolate himself with the pain of Nate Robinson to win games. That's why he's a champion.

• • •

TEAM #12: HOUSTON ROCKETS____ (Western 8th seed: 45-37, SRS of 3.34)

• Series prediction: Rockets LOSE in the first round. ( • • • • )
• Three most likely end results: 3-4 ( • • • • ), 2-4 ( • • • • ), 1-4 ( • • )

I know what you're thinking. "Why, pray tell, is Houston so high on this? They're an eight seed going up against a historically strong first seed in a tough Western conference. Isn't that an easy call?" Yes, it is. On its face, sure. The Thunder are knocking on the doors of history -- they finished the season with an average margin of victory of 9.2 points per game. Some important context on that: only eight teams in NBA history finished with a differential that high, and seven of those eight went on to win the title. The only one that didn't? The 1972 Bucks, who lost the title because they had to play the best team within those eight, the 1972 Lakers! Very few teams put together that kind of a dominant regular season and don't finish it off with a title. In fact, all but one of them swept or gentleman-swept the first round. So why should the Thunder be worried about the Rockets?

Simple. Variance.

One of the advantages of modern statistical team-building is that it has keyed in a few smart underdog franchises to a variety of strategies to even the playing field. And the Houston Rockets are a stat-heavy dreamboat. Morey, McHale, and the powers that be knew that the Rockets would face a talent deficit this season -- they're one of the youngest teams in the league, superstar or no, and they were going to need a way to swing the odds in their favor when they played against teams that were markedly better. And what's the best way to do that? Force the issue. Play at an obscenely high tempo, constantly setting up your offense in semi-transition and jacking up more three pointers than the world thought possible. A low percentage three pointer is a better shot for an underdog than a slightly-better-percentage midrange, because every possession you can deign to outscore your opponent by 3-0 or 3-2 adds to your team's handicap. Speed the game up, force the opponent into an uncomfortable foul situation, and take as many high-variance scoring opportunities as possible. It isn't Moneyball -- it's upset-ball. It's how the We Believe Warriors upset an amazing Mavericks team. It's how bad teams beat good teams.

Fun fact, though. That cuts both ways. This Rockets team can play with anyone in the league if they err on the side of a good shooting night, and they can upset -- quite literally -- anyone in a single game. But they also can get blown to kingdom come if they err on the side of a poor shooting night, as seen in their 30 point loss to Golden State, their dual 22 point losses to OKC, and their 20 point blowout at home to San Antonio. The Rockets are great, but if their threes stop falling, they don't just become beatable. They become waif-thin, and they can get blown out even if your team has a bad night. For this reason, I can't see anyone really picking the Rockets to beat OKC. But I do think they'll have a game or two where their threes start falling and the Thunder can't quite keep up -- nobody could. So I'll predict a 6 to 7 game series -- one that the Thunder will win, and win well, but one where the Rockets put a bit of the fear of God into OKC's heart. Should be a lot of fun, regardless.

DEWEY'S TAKE: The exact opposite of the Bulls, a team that plays defense a) incidentally or b) because Kevin McHale is a very kind man and gee, it wouldn't be right for him to have to play you less than you deserve, young man. You don't want me to play Omer Asik 48 minutes, do you? He doesn't play very good offense, at all. You wouldn't want that. But he does defend. Can you defend? Good, do it. Here's a tasty protein shake filled with nutriments. I swear it's not so chalky when you actually try it. Best, Daryl.

• • •

TEAM #11: LOS ANGELES LAKERS____ (Western 7th seed: 45-37, SRS of 1.49)

• Series prediction: Lakers LOSE in the first round. (• • • )
• Three most likely end results: 2-4 (• • • • ), 3-4 ( • • • ), 5-7 ( • )

I toyed with picking the Lakers to win against the Spurs, but I can't do it. I'll get to my assessment of the State of the San Antonio Union in a later Prognostirank post, but for now, one must pay the Lakers their due -- the plucky $100 million underdogs have scrapped their way into the playoffs. That's not meant to be mocking or facetious, either -- it's a solid accomplishment that this injured and disappointing team should be quite proud of. You may remember Alex once wrote a piece outlining how well the Lakers would have to play in the later stretches of the season if they intended to make the playoffs. Guess what? They played exactly that well. They won a lot of close games, completely erasing their exceptionally unlucky start to the season. They spent the first 2-3 months losing games they should've won and winning once by 20 points for every three losses by 2 points. They proceeded to spend the last few months winning games they should've lost and losing once by 20 points for every three wins by 2 points, which amounted to a final record that's -- somehow -- almost exactly what it should have been, given their margin of victory and their strength of schedule. Fun stuff.

Still. After the season ends, there will be ample time to write billions more words about the Laker team we can't stop talking about, so we'll axe the retrospective and start a series prospectus. How do the Lakers match up against the Spurs? Pretty well, on an individual-to-individual basis. Tim Duncan is a wonderfully deserving first-team All-NBA player who -- at his age -- has a mite bit of trouble with athletic big men, much like Dwight Howard's currently revitalized form. Ron Artest has the bulk to cause Kawhi Leonard a bit of trouble, and the cryptkeeper form Steve Nash is bumming about should wash out Tony Parker until Parker's rehab starts taking effect. Danny Green and Gary Neal can shoot, but so can Jodie Meeks in small portions, and Pau Gasol's recently revitalized play should realistically outduel Tiago Splitter. On an individual-to-individual basis, one's tempted to pick the Lakers. Even without Kobe around to tip the scales further in L.A.'s favor.

Here's the issue. It's not a one-on-one game, and even if you accept that the Spurs' bench looks like crap lately, one has trouble ignoring just how poorly L.A.'s general defense matches up against San Antonio's motion-offense playbook. Laker rotations this season have been somewhat predictable. They rotate well on one to two movements, but they miss the boat entirely if you complicate things further. And if you force a switch? Congratulations -- you've earned a completely wide open shot. Howard's recovery has gotten better over the past few months, but it doesn't erase L.A.'s general lack of quickness at anticipating the third motion of a play. Nor does it erase the fact that half of San Antonio's current perceived weakness is based around the fact that their threes simply aren't falling. The Spurs shot -- not a typo -- 31% on three pointers over the last 10 games of the regular season. They shot 39% on threes over the other 72 games of the 2013 season, and they shot 39% from three last season. If the Spurs shoot 31% from three over the course of the series, yes, they'll probably lose.

But that seems a bit unlikely. My take? The Lakers will upset the Spurs in one of the first few games, much like the 2011 Hornets split the first two games with a vastly superior Laker team. The Spurs will split the series in L.A., then take care of business in the last two games and head into the second round a healthier team than they are now, with Diaw back, Manu in decent shape, and Tony back to a decent facsimile of his MVP-3rd-place form. Teams can -- and often do -- slump badly heading into the postseason without suffering too much for their late-season sins -- just look at last year's Thunder (7-7 in their last 14) or last year's Heat (11-9 in their last 20). The Lakers have a shot, and if Kobe was around, I'd be tempted to pick them further. But I just can't do it.

DEWEY'S TAKE: If they win any game they will win every game and if they lose even once they will never win again. This is what I've been told about the Lakers season, and, remarkably, it was pretty true to life. They haven't lost that big one yet, though. What more can you say about them except they were bad but then they were good. They can't defend a box but they can get to the line and nothing about this team makes any sense even after watching what seems like 50-60 games. I watched them spitefully in lieu of the Spurs. I regret this immensely. The Hawks are a plea of the Basketball Gods to end basketball; the Lakers are Satan.

• • •

A few end-matter notes -- I'll be putting up the next part of the prognostirank series (with the last two first-round exits and my second round predictions) tomorrow. Parts three and four, outlining my conference finals picks and my NBA finals pick, will go up early next week. All of the predictions are already chosen -- I will not be editing the picks to adjust for anything we see in the intervening playoff games. I'd like to thank Hoopchalk for their excellent Playoff Preview Capsule series (used for some of the initial scouting here), as well as NBA League Pass and Basketball Reference for the game-watching experience and the stats to draw on when writing these.

Stay frosty, friends.

Remember how we had that one series, a long time ago, where we'd entreat our writers to scribe short vignettes on the previous night's games? We've consistently discovered there's no way for us to do that every night, but with the capsules done and Aaron back in the saddle as a more active managing editor, we're hoping that we can bring the feature back as a weekly Wednesday post. Sometimes Thursday, like today. As always, the vignettes may not always be tactful, tacit, or terse -- they'll always be under a thousand words, though, and generally attempt to work through a question, an observation, or a feeling. Today's short pieces are as follows.

• GENERAL: A Prelude to Prognostirank (by Aaron McGuire)
• GENERAL: The Stephen Jackson Story (by Alex Dewey)

Read on after the jump.

• • •

GENERAL: A Prelude to Prognostirank
Aaron McGuire

As our main playoff preview feature, I'll be bringing back a revised form of one of last season's staples -- Gothic Ginobili's Prognostirank series, where I rate the playoff teams in the order I expect them to be eliminated. Hence, it's a prognostication combined with a ranking. I'm a beautiful butterfly made of slideshows and click bait, folks! This year we're going to include a few extra tidbits, as well; Dewey will be adding minor blurbs on each team as we go along, and I'll be rating not only the series length and winner predictions I considered last year but also the general confidence I have in the prediction, and the number of double digit wins I'd predict for each round. (Note: I will inevitably get each and every one of these playoff predictions wrong. I will laugh at myself about it. You are wholly entitled to do the same.)

Still, that feature never really covers the entire league. So I concocted a half-baked idea. For this final regular-season outlet, I decided I'd do a short version of the Prognostirank series that ranked the final 14 teams in the league, by my assessment of team quality and their chances of an upset if they faced the Heat in the first round. Yes, even the Western teams -- for this exercise, we're saying that the Milwaukee Bucks literally resign from the playoffs tomorrow and are replaced (in order) by every single lottery team in the league. How would they fare? Who would be most likely to upset the Heat? Valid questions, all. Let's start it from the top.

1. DALLAS MAVERICKS (41-41; 13th ranked O | 19th ranked D)

Is this a homer pick? Perhaps. Out of all the lottery teams, I realize that Utah has a better record and can be reasonably argued to be the better team. But let's be frank, here -- the difference between Dallas and Utah isn't enormous, and I'd take Carlisle and Nowitzki over Corbin and Utah's stable any day. Nowitzki can be counted on for 2 or 3 vintage games in any given playoff series -- it's pretty hard to sweep the Mavericks, all things considered, and I'm not sure it would be THAT hard to sweep the Jazz. But alas. Dallas' porous defense and complete lack of offensive coherence would doom them in the end, but a Mavs/Heat grudge-match re-match would be excellent theater and -- for my money -- more competitive than anything the Heat are going to see in the first two rounds of the playoffs.

2. UTAH JAZZ____ (43-39; 10th ranked O | 21st ranked D)

Although I lightly implied that the Jazz would be swept by the Heat above, it certainly isn't a given. Three main reasons for this. First, Paul Millsap has a weird tendency to have impossible performances against the Heat. Seriously. Millsap -- a 27% three point shooter -- has shot 75% on threes against the Heat in his career, mostly in that one unforgettable game. Second, the Jazz actually managed to split their two games against Miami this year, winning their home matchup relatively comfortably in early January. Finally? Four words. Mo Williams revenge game. Enough said.

3. MINNESOTA TIMBERWOLVES (31-51; 25th ranked O | 13th ranked D)

Alright. Hear me out. Yes, I may be slightly biased by the fact that the Timberwolves absolutely handled the Spurs in their last two matchups of the season. But the T-Wolves have the most intriguing combination of talent currently slumming around in the lottery, and they've got several legitimate star-level pieces in Rubio and... oh, wait. Love and Pek are both injured. Still. Rubio would cannibalize Chalmers and Cole with his head's up defense, leaving Chase Budinger and J.J. Barea to defend LeBron and Wade. Seems like a perfectly reasonable matchup. Wolves in five.

4. WASHINGTON WIZARDS (29-53; 30th ranked O | 5th ranked D)

This is another "screw the records! THIS FEELS RIGHT!" pick, I'll admit. But there are a few numeric reasons I'd think the 30th ranked offense in the NBA would have a chance to steal a game or two from Miami. First, out of all the defenses staying home, the Wizards are FAR AND AWAY the best one. They're borderline elite, especially since Nene and Wall returned to bolster their rotation. The team only won 29 games for a reason -- they're not very good. But having one elite trait gives you a stepping stone to work from. The other teams don't quite have that.

5. TORONTO RAPTORS (34-48; 13th ranked O | 22nd ranked D)

At this point, I'm starting to lose hope that ANY of these teams would take more than a game. But I'll play along. On the ropes in game #3, down 2-0 and down by 20 points at the half, the Raptors announce that they're waiving their vets mid-game and signing Tas Melas, J.E. Skeets, Trey Kerby, and Leigh Ellis to 10-day contracts. The Basketball Jones crew comes in and absolutely styles on Miami, taking the next two games after they break out the pun gun and literally shoot LeBron James in the shoulder. After upsetting the Heat in game 5, the Heat announce that they're waiving every single player outside their big three and signing TBJ's sworn pick-up court enemies, The Sex Warriors. The so-called "Sexy Heat Warriors" proceed to destroy the Raptors in the final two games of the series, freeing TBJ to get back to the booth and greatly confusing everyone who doesn't listen to the podcast.

6. PORTLAND TRAILBLAZERS (33-49; 15th ranked O | 26th ranked D)

Because it's the playoffs, coach Stotts decides to simply play the Portland starters 48 minutes a game to try and avoid relying on the worst bench in the NBA. This makes Portland a dramatically better team during the first three quarters, going into every fourth quarter of the series with a lead. Unfortunately, the players are all too exhausted to actually keep the lead, and the Blazers collapse in the fourth quarter in each of the series' four games. Sorry, Blazer fans.

7. PHILADELPHIA 76ERS (34-48; 26th ranked O | 15th ranked D)

No.

8. DETROIT PISTONS (29-53; 21st ranked O | 24th ranked D)

Andre Drummond and Greg Monroe take advantage of Miami's terrible big man depth and the Pistons push the Heat to six games. (What's funny about that sentence is the fact that many analysts continue to pound the "Miami has terrible big man depth, teams with good bigs will obliterate Miami" trope into the ground to the point where typing that ridiculous sentence didn't actually seem that far from the norm.)

9. SACRAMENTO KINGS (28-54; 12th ranked O | 29th ranked D)

The Kings would have a significantly higher chance of beating the Heat if they smudged out the names on their jerseys and rebranded themselves "the Kinks." Mainly because they could play Dave Davies' voice over the PA throughout the games and viscerally terrify the Heat. Kind of want to see this happen, all things considered. I love the Kinks.

10. NEW ORLEANS PELICANS (27-55; 16th ranked O | 28th ranked D)

In a bold move, the Hornets decide to change their name and brand right before the series. They win the first two games as the Heat are just terribly confused about the whole thing. They proceed to get destroyed in the next four, but hey, they got three home games!

11. ORLANDO MAGIC (20-62; 26th ranked O | 25th ranked D)

The Magic have actually played Miami oddly close ever since the Heatles got together, and Vucevic has been HUGE for them against the Heat this season. Still feel like they get swept, but it'd be more akin to the 2010 Magic's close sweep of the 2010 Bobcats than their monstrous sweep of the 2010 Hawks. Also: Tobias Harris would go OFF at some point, I guarantee it. (This series would go better for Orlando if they could get J.J. Redick back. J.J., come home!)

12. CLEVELAND CAVALIERS (24-58; 20th ranked O | 26th ranked D)

To prepare for the series, the Cleveland Cavaliers hold a pow-wow with Dennis Kucinich, Dennis Kucinich's incredibly smart and attractive wife, and Drew Carey. The trio teaches the Cavs about the true meaning of friendship and togetherness, and teaches Byron Scott that suicide sprints and making everyone throw up repeatedly isn't quite the right way to coach a young team. Bolstered by their pow-wow, the Cavaliers proceed to pull everything together and get everything right... only to get destroyed by an exponentially increasing margin in each game, losing the final game by a score of 256-0. Kyrie scores 0 points with 0 assists and 0 rebounds in the final game, but stays after the game. I bet Cleveland fans will like him again!

13. CHARLOTTE BOBCATS (21-61; 28th ranked O | 30th ranked D)

Desagana Diop has started more NBA Finals games than Dwight Howard. That's all I've got.

14. PHOENIX SUNS (25-57; 29th ranked O | 23rd ranked D)

Michael Beasley revenge series. Dude averages 70 PPG... on 95 shots per game. Unfortunately, they forget they aren't supposed to keep tanking in the playoffs, losing each game by upwards of 30 points. Good show, guys.

• • •

GENERAL: The Games That Mattered
Alex Dewey

[EDITOR'S NOTE: The following is a fictional tale. It marks the return of "John", Alex Dewey's alternate reality San Antonio ballboy. It is set directly before Game 6 of last year's Western Conference Finals.]

The Spurs would face a 2-3 deficit and perhaps the end of their season tomorrow night. Tim Duncan's legendary career, the legendary Spurs dynasty, all of this was perhaps at its twilight. I felt anxiety and restlessness that night, as I'm sure all the Spurs also felt on some level. All that considered, I wasn't terribly surprised when a couple of players woke me up at midnight to fetch a couple basketballs from the storage locker. After all, I'm just an exhausted equipment lackey sleeping in a run-down motel room. It was my job back in that warm and pleasant June, so I certainly didn't resent it when Tim Duncan and Stephen Jackson came knocking at my door. I grabbed the keys, rubbed my eyes, and silently walked down to the outdoor courts a few hundred feet from the base of the hotel.

"Just gonna shoot some hoops, you guys?" I asked as we entered through the locked fence.

"Yeah, probably. Maybe not." In four words, Tim had managed to assert and cast doubt on the very assertion. I couldn't even get a scare quote from him!

Not so savvy was Stephen Jackson: "Kid, you like the Thunder?"

I responded honestly: "Sure. Just not as much as the Spurs, Stephen."

"So you might not be so interested in this little pick-up game. Alright, kid. Just go back upstairs."

Tim Duncan gave a dry, furious, expressionless stare at his friend's characteristic lack of couth or patience. "Come on, Jack, you just had to be silent for a few seconds. Come on, man. Heh."

"I was discreet, though, Tim! No way he guesses it's Durant and Westbrook from that!" I blinked quickly in befuddlement at Jack's amusing attempt to rectify the situation. S-Jax, that fount of self-awareness, found it pretty funny himself, "Come on, who cares, Tim, heh? It's not like the mop-boys have picnics on the hotel lawn in the middle of the night, heh. He's just one dude," Stephen Jackson was needling Tim Duncan with no regard for human life. I wasn't sure if Tim ever changed his facial expression during the conversation.

As this absurd discussion settled down, my thoughts turned back to the situation before me. Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook against Tim and Jack, in a red-eye pick-up game the night before their possibly-decisive playoff game? I couldn't think to do anything, so I stood silent. But even then, I couldn't help but grin in anticipation. Tim noticed and told me: "You can't tell anyone about this game, John. I mean it. No one's violating curfew or their contracts, or anything, but I don't want any of this to reach the public."

"Alright, nothing. Not a word," I said with surprising conviction. After all, my sights had turned to something larger, and I didn't want the story so much as I just wanted to be a part of this game. No one else had to know about it. I took my watch off and started shooting hoops. At halfcourt, Tim and Jack started doing some passing drills that I saw intermittently after I'd get the rebounds from my shots. Gradually, though, the drills became more engrossing than my own shots, and I caught a final rebound and turned to watch from the top of the key.

Having been a mopboy for several years, I'd seen plenty of these kinds of drills, but what I hadn't seen was the level of focus and chemistry Tim and Jack possessed and brought to the table. They were passing from and to every angle that the hand can reach to throw and catch. They were moving with and without the ball, passing off the dribble, passing into the dribble, throwing and gathering hailmarys over their shoulders, and so on.

They would soon lose to the Thunder, of course. Both that night when it didn't matter and the next night when it did. No one on Earth could stop Kevin Durant on either night, much less a couple crafty vets on a pale-lit blue on green court without a hotel or a dozen crafty vets on a Chesapeake court so blue and bright you'd test it with your feet as water if it weren't so eerie and unnatural of hue. This historically dominant team the Spurs, full of every type of doer and thinker in an offense, was unseated by their young, more openly pious and brash brothers in the Thunder. There was nothing to be gained from the loss but the mystic's absurd purchase, a purchase of land that one alone can walk upon and which one cannot confer.

We Spurs fans know it; that team was something else, something special. Plenty of writers and league observers know it too. But for the most part we're the only ones that do, and, as memory fades, all that is left is the experience and the testimony, and finally nothing as we go. And friends come and go, too, and Stephen Jackson got released the other day, and Tim's not too far from the end, despite his dogged insistence on writing his final chapters with a most emphatic ink.

But those final days are always coming, aren't they? And with the benefit of reflection I'm so glad of what I did next, as I watched their mesmerizing passing drill. I told Tim maybe they should try with two at once, and so I sent a bounce pass his way with the ball I'd been shooting. They obliged and, with the extra projectile, the level of focus between the two grew still more intense, the passes got faster, and sometimes the trajectories of the simultaneous passes were so close that the gap could scarcely fit the width of a pin. These were the passes that only the ultimate teammates could pull off, what with their collective proprioception that bordered on telepathy. I reasoned that subtle hints in body language and eye contact must have tipped one off to the other's intentions, but I wondered if the court wasn't too dimly-lit for that. No matter the mechanisms, I know that the world beyond the chain-link cage had faded into black, and all of existence was a converted street-light throwing pale blue light upon a pale green court.

They were friends.

As Kobe Bryant took his fateful final step and hobbled off the court with a grimace and a quieted crowd, visions of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid loomed over the proceedings. Because, let's face it -- they never had a chance. You know the apocryphal story of the two old western outlaws. Everyone does. And most people know the film, too, where the two friends gamble with fate all throughout the duration. They endure close call after close call, openly debating whether to hang up their guns or keep searching for a final heist to end it all. They go straight, then they don't. You CAN'T just go straight after what they did. You think you can evade that world, but you simply can't. The film fools some into thinking they'll find their eternal idylls, but that was never in the cards. Never is, really.

In the end, it was never some incredible feat that had them knocking on death's door. It was the tiniest mistake. The most imperceptible setback could ruin them -- and it did. What finally brought them down was the most innocuous heist of all time, and a detail they simply couldn't have seen coming. A small child recognizes the brand on their mule, and the Bolivian police force isn't about to let the two men go. They go out in a blaze of glory, shining brightest before their shortened last breath. The outlaws spent the whole movie fleeing from the stark inevitability of consequence. But that mistakes the moral of the movie -- the two were cornered from the moment they started the grind.

For a variety of self-evident and not-so-self-evident reasons, Bryant's injury brought me back to that film's conclusion. That same feeling of disturbing inevitability fell over the proceedings, despite the nature of the pain. Not a single doctor blames Bryant's insane minutes total, or the irresponsibility of keeping Bryant in the game after his numerous contusions and scary falls. But SOMETHING was going to happen. A 34-year-old player simply can't play 48 minutes a game to close a season. There was going to be a break, a strain, a pop. And it wasn't going to be pretty. Degradation by aging is inevitability -- by cheating it, you evoke Death's wrath and risk a more sudden and overwhelming pain than you'd have experienced if you simply tamped it down over time.

But Bryant doesn't seem the type who simply sees fit to fade away. Not to me. He's the Butch Cassidy player. If everyone goes out, they'll go out -- Bryant will go out in a blaze of flaming glory, challenging Death to a tête-à-tête on his field of battle. "Just TRY and strike me down. Just TRY and injure me. I'll come back. I'll keep fighting." And so it has been -- Kobe Bryant has cheated Death. He's put off his career's closing act as long as he possibly can, putting up the best offensive season of his career at an age where the superstars cease to be super. And when he returns from this injury, he'll continue to do so, for a time.

Bryant's career is mortal. It's quite the depressing reminder -- everything ends.

• • •

Kobe Bryant's injury causes us to think back on what he accomplished this season. Spoiler alert -- he accomplished a lot. The superlatives that can be applied to the severity of the L.A.'s' disappointment can be applied in the inverse to Bryant's incredible season. He was phenomenal. As the team concept of the "72-win Lakers" crumbled around him, Bryant leaned more than he ever did before on his court vision and applied a new devotion to his potential as off-ball threat. He lowered his usage to accommodate L.A.'s ever-shifting roster of refuse and injured stars. His defense was awful, and that must be noted, but one can't look away from what Bryant accomplished on the offensive end of the floor. One could make an argument that Kobe's 2013 season was the best offensive season of his career. It certainly isn't that far off.

The 2013 regular season, despite Kobe's triumphs, was not about Kobe. It was about LeBron James and Kevin Durant, the two effortlessly dominant players that look set to run things around here for the next several years. It was about a two-city cage match for a rudderless franchise, with two cities prostrate before the grace of Stern and Silver in a gasping lunge for a team to call their own. It was about win streaks and dominance. It was about tanking and cowardice. It was about the people that weave the tapestry of this wonderful league, and the personalities that make the game a joy. As it always is, and always will be.

Yet, Kobe Bryant's injury -- grisly though it may be -- casts another light. A further purpose to the season, and something I can't ignore. It speaks to the old souls of the NBA, the dominant renaissance players who are simply destroying the league in their waning years. You have Bryant, who dominated in a new way and answered his critics like never before. You have Tim Duncan, obliterating players with dunks that fans thought were gone a decade ago and leading a top-3 defense. Dirk Nowitzki battled back from injury upon injury, returning to his title-team form and very nearly leading his prized franchise back from the brink. Kevin Garnett remains, like clockwork, a strong contender for the best defender in the league. Ray Allen, Manu Ginobili, Andre Miller -- they aren't dead yet, and each still had ample flashes of their former glory.

Which is to say that alongside all those other factors that defined the season, we had one further -- the old guys got it done. They defied age, by and large, and burnished their resumes with the kinds of seasons we never thought they had in them. And Kobe's injury casts a pall on the proceedings, as we realize the sad undercurrent to this unexpected brilliance of the relative archaic. These players -- these invincible old souls with their ageless wonder and their timeless legend -- are mortal. And whether they get struck down by a freak injury or a sudden snap, Father Time goes undefeated. Even superhumans like Kobe can get struck down without warning.

• • •

The horrific scene in Boston last Tuesday reminded us of several contradictory things. It reminded all of us of the damage wrought when fundamentally awful people enact their darkest desires. It reminded us of the horrors that some see fit to indiscriminately unleash. The worst dregs of society pay no quarter to reason or empathy. They destroy and they ravage and cause us to question humanity. There is nothing positive about the villains who decided to turn the pride of Boston into their own warped fantasies of destruction and misery.

There is no moral to their actions. But there was a moral to the reactions.

All tragedy reminds us of the kindness in the heart of strangers. The same race that produces the horrors who blow up the innocent is the same race that produces the heroes who, upon hearing and seeing the explosions, run directly towards the flames to help the victims. The same race that produces the humorless cretins who joke about the tragedy and "push the line" to try and turn the deaths into a sick joke was the same race that produced the marathon runners who, upon reaching the finish line, ran to the hospital and gave blood to fill the blood banks. The same race that produces a single killer produces a dozen healers, amped to fix the wrongs wrought by the thugs who cause these sorts of tragedies.

In a hopeless tragedy, there remains proof of a fundamental good in the hearts of many. And that counts for something. So, too, does the tertiary lessons of a tragedy. What's really important? What matters, in the grand scheme of things? For the first time in NBA history, the league cancelled a game that will never be made up. Boston and Indiana were set to play a meaningless late-season scuffle. The league axed it, and openly announced that it wouldn't be made up. The Pacers and the Celtics will play 81 games this season, for the first time ever. And all of us -- from the devoted fan to the front-row-ticket-holder -- nod in assent.

Because at the end of the day, basketball is an escape. It is an expensive facsimile of life, a technicolor television show with heroes and villains and good people all around us. It comes second to life, and it comes second to repairing a broken city. In our fandom and our devotion, we oftentimes find ourselves lost in the gravity of a basketball tragedy. Basketball loss is not real loss, no matter how strongly we feel it in the core of our fandom. We lose sight of the human core of the game we love. And we chance to forget the most necessary saving grace of all.

In this case, it's a simple three words: Kobe Bryant lives.

• • •

Kobe Bryant, Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki, Manu Ginobili. All of them will be gone one day, and one relatively soon. Yet here they are, the stage producers in a final one-act drama. They're dazzling and mystifying us all once again. And like the greatest films and screenwriters, they've given us no indication of when -- or where -- they'll end the streak and fall for good. Kobe has suffered a setback, and he'll likely return to the stage a lesser performer. But he will still return, and more importantly?

He'll still be there to watch the next act.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were never to know of the ubiquity of their story. They were as any old outlaws in their day, with knowledge of their passing fame but no awareness of their future reputation. The inverse of this lies at the heart of what may be the greatest saving grace of becoming a sporting legend. After your career draws to a close, and the curtain falls? You can sit back and watch as your legend takes shape and form. Michael Jordan dominated the league for over a decade, and retired having answered every critic he possibly could. And now, Jordan lives. He lives on to enjoy his reign as the greatest player to ever play the game. He watches as player upon player takes him as an idol, basing their games on the shadows he left behind.

And so it will be with today's NBA legends, as they exit the stage and move to their dens and their futures. They too will watch as the players of tomorrow take their games as gospel. Basketball death bears little resemblance to a person's true death -- it is the death of a hobby, and the death of a talent. But it is just as pressingly the birth of a retired benefactor, the start of a new journey for the player and the fans who adore him. A player hangs up their Jordans, their fortunes and legacies replete in their wake, and gets to watch their devotees defend their honor. The depression and the horror of watching our favorite players break down and suffer is deep, because a sport close to the vest can touch the soul. It is our gift and our curse, and it's part of what makes following professional sports so engaging -- it is all too human to feel pain. To care is to hurt.

But there are worse things in life than a retired player getting to watch their legacy evolve in real time. There are worse things in life than one's favorite sports stars entering the next stage in a life of purpose and luxury. And it holds true to perhaps the greatest gift in sports -- even as a player ceases to matter in present-tense of the game that they love, their last blaze of glory in the sport they love is never quite the end of a fulfilling and satisfying life. Children. New jobs. New challenges. Our sporting heroes do not die, not yet -- they merely drive upon a new road. Replete with personal purpose, and the promise of an unknown tomorrow.

And thank God for that.

"Alright, Starr. I'll play your little game. Call me Phil Jackson, savior of Los Angeles."

"What?"

"I mean, Goodsprings. Sorry. Got caught in the moment there."

"Alright. Well, that's cool, didn't actually expect you to say that. Here's the situation. My caravan was attacked by the Powder Gangers. I fought back, but they killed my two associates and chased me around for a while. I was able to snipe two of them, but I ran out of ammo and had to hide out in this town. I'm 90% sure they're going to send someone to attack me at some point. Now, the people here have been really nice to me. I don't want the Powder Gangers to destroy their town. But I also don't want to die, and if I leave the town, I'll probably die. So I'm caught in a conundrum."

"If I help you eliminate these guys, will you tell me how to get to Las Vegas?"

"If you mean New Vegas, I mean..." Ringo paused, made to say something, then smiled. "Sure, I guess."

"It's a deal. What do I need to do?"

"Well, we need to round up a few people. Get Sunny Smiles in on the game, she's good at fighting. Try to get the barkeep in on it. Maybe the general store guy can provide us some armor, and maybe Doc Mitchell can provide us some chems. You never know, right? Anyway. You and Smiles come and see me when the Powder Gangers approach the town. I know they will. We'll kick their butts." Jackson nodded, and headed out towards the town_._

• • •

Although Jackson doubted that he had to talk to everyone Ringo mentioned, the completionist within him bid it so. He made a little mental list of the people he needed to talk to, and headed first to Doc Mitchell's place when he realized it was barely a stone's throw from the gas station. He entered the house, wandering aimlessly around looking for the doctor. As he wandered, he shortly pondered how weird it was that the doctor was letting him amble about his home aimlessly, and furthermore how odd it was that the doctor left all his valuables lying around. It was almost like he wanted them stolen... Finally, Jackson ran into the doctor in his kitchen, where the doctor was sitting at an empty table and staring at the wall. There was no food in the oven or on the stove.

"Hey, Doc. Uh... you OK, there?"

"How're you holdin' up?"

"Pretty well, I guess. Hey, can you help us out with some free medical supplies to fight the powder gangers?"

"Seems like wherever I go it's always the same. Folks just never leave each other alone."

"Wait, are you criticizing us or them or what?"

The doctor didn't answer, silently handing Phil several syringes filled with a darkish gray liquid. They said 'STIMPACK' on them. He shrugged and pocketed them. "Thanks. Hey, uh... are the objects in your house free to take?" Again, no answer. "It's definitely a yes if you don't tell me not to." The doctor stared impassively at our hero. "... alright, thanks for your patronage." Phil wandered around the house, taking a few guns, some ammo, and a few trinkets and baubles. He also took some cigarettes, just in case. Phil walked out of the doctor's house, his pack a bit heavier and his conscience more muddled.

From the doctor's office Phil ran the gauntlet -- he started with Sunny Smiles, who was seemingly more interested in killing off the Powder Gangers than Ringo was. She was in. Trudy took some convincing, but I mean... it's Phil Jackson we're talking about here, folks. He convinced Rodman to keep his lunacy off the basketball court for three years of his career. He's good at convincing people to help him out, and a barkeep named Trudy was well within his wheelhouse. She was in, and along with her the hastily cobbled together militia that Goodsprings called "protectors." From there Phil returned to the confusing and disturbingly emotionless husk of a man known as Easy Pete, where Phil pretended to know anything whatsoever about explosives to much success, easily convincing Easy Pete that he was an explosives mastermind who totally deserved five free sticks of dynamite. He then faced his last challenge -- convincing the shopkeeper to give them all free leather armor.

"Hey, Chet. Want to help us out and give us some free armor to fight the Powder Gangers?"

"This again? Like I said, I'm against taking on the Powder Gangers. My supplies aren't cheap, you know."

At this, Phil Jackson found himself uncharacteristically speechless. He'd easily convinced just about everyone else to give him aid -- this shopkeeper's blithe refusal took him off guard. "Uh... well... the Powder Gangers are really bad, man, and I'll totally give you a cigarette if you help us out, you know?" Phil Jackson pursed his lips. If I was him, I'd punch me right now. That was bad.

"... no. Make sure they know that if they kill you all I'll still do business with them, alright?"

"... why would I let them know that?"

"Good question. I don't know why I requested that. Anyway. Scram, unless you want to buy something."

Phil sifted through his pack, taking out a few things and asking prices. It took a while, but he was finally able to get around 100 bottle caps for some combination of gecko meat, cigarettes, gecko hide, and a flower he'd picked. While he had no idea if he'd sold those items at face value, that certainly seemed like a lot of currency for very little in the way of valuable material. I am the king of bartering. Time to try to get him to supply leather armor again...

"Hey, Chet. Want to help us out and give us some free armor to fight the Powder Gangers?"

"This again? Like I said, I'm against taking on the Powder Gangers. My supplies aren't cheap, you know."

"Yeah... well... if you ran the triangle offense, you'd make more money. Like Kurt Rambis did! Take that, jerk!"

At this, Phil Jackson nervously looked from side to side and fled the shop. Note to self: don't barter. Ever again. Wow.

• • •

Before heading back to Ringo, Phil Jackson decided to look into a claim that Trudy had mentioned was yet to be scavanged -- a safe in the Goodsprings schoolhouse, to be exact. She'd given him an issue of Lockpick Weekly, which struck Phil as quite possibly the least necessary weekly human interest publication on the face of the earth. Still. Jackson entered the abandoned schoolhouse, where he was immediately met by a giant mantis the size of a small toddler. Phil pondered. Why is everything larger after nuclear war? That doesn't even make sense.

He considered the thought as he quickly dispatched the unreasonably large mantis, abandoning it when he realized there was quite literally no way to sufficiently answer that question without a level of science expertise that Phil Jackson adamantly refused to have. Phil walked over to the safe. He sized it up, just like detectives do in detective movies. What would Indiana Jones do, though? Because I am now Indiana Jones. Phil thought on it, then without warning whipped out his pistol and shot the safe.

It remained closed.

That was a terrible idea.

Finally accepting that he was going to have to try and pick the lock, Jackson took out a bobby pin and kneeled down next to the lock. How do they do this in movies again? He got as close as he could to the lock and placed his ear on the safe, listening as he fiddled with the bobby pin. It quickly snapped. He threw it out and tried again, only to snap the next one. And the next one. And the next one. Phil closed his eyes in frustration and took out the magazine Trudy gave him earlier. He read through it cover-to-cover, quickly internalizing a lot of the ins and outs of lockpicking. The magazine may be completely and utterly useless as a weekly digest, but Phil could not deny its usefulness -- on his first try post-magazine, he unlocked the tumbler and opened the safe in less than 15 seconds. Inside there was a strange wrist device that looked like he could snap to the weird console on his left arm, as well as a few hundred bottle caps and a few magazines.

Score.

With his pockets full of change and his allies rallied, Jackson returned to Ringo's abandoned gas station. He explained to Ringo that he'd gotten the medical supplies, enlisted Trudy's aid, and gotten Sunny to agree to help out. Ringo nodded along, sharpening a machete and loading a gun while Phil explained the score. "Alright, then, Phil. Are you ready to take on the Powder Gangers?"

"Wait, don't we need to wait for them to show up? What if I say I'm ready?"

"Then they'll show up."

"And if I say I'm not ready yet?"

"Then they won't."

"That's awfully polite of them."

"I'll take your sass as you being ready. OY! SUNNY!"

As if on command, Sunny Smiles ran into the gas station. "Time to look alive. The Powder Gangers are here to play."

Phil stared at the two of them, completely befuddled. "... what?"

Ringo smiled. "How many are there, Sunny?"

"About six. Look mean, too. Joe Cobb's with them, he's no joke."

"Let's go, then."

The three left the gas station, taking their positions in front of the saloon. Indeed, six members of the gang were approaching from the north -- Joe Cobb had a shotgun, and was staring Ringo down from a distance. They weren't approaching very quickly. Phil leaned over and whispered to Ringo. "Hey, can we attack them at any time?"

He shrugged. "I'd assume so. All's fair in love and war, right?"

"Neat." Phil took out two sticks of dynamite, lighting them and tossing them at the Powder Gangers. They started fleeing, with half of them running into the desert (where they were stung by inordinately large scorpions and immediately killed) and half running into town, indiscriminately shooting at the townsfolk and Phil. "That's not very nice." Phil took out his pistol, cocking it and charging forward into the fray. He was flanked at his side by Sunny's dog Cheyenne, which was probably not for the best -- one of the Powder Gangers immediately caught Cheyenne in the face with a bullet, killing her instantly. "HEY! I like dogs!"

Jackson whipped out his shotgun and unloaded straight into the offending gang member's shoulder, reloading as Joe Cobb shot round after round into Phil's frame. He aimed out and shot Cobb in the head, satisfyingly ending Cobb's one-episode reign of terror over this particular episodic story. He approached the last Powder Ganger, throwing dynamite at the townspeople and generally looking like a jerk. "Are you gonna leave, or do I have to pretend I'm Michael Jordan?" The Powder Ganger made to slash Jackson with a machete, causing our hero to unload his last shotgun round straight into his chest.

"You reach, I teach."

The battle over, Phil walked over to Ringo in front of the saloon. Time seemed to stop, much as it had in Doctor Mitchell's house -- a weird pop-up dialog box covered his vision, telling him that he was now "vilified" by the Powder Gangers and would be attacked by any he subsequently met. Conversely, he was now "idolized" by Goodsprings. Nice. The screen faded as soon as he'd read it, and he stopped in front of Ringo. "Alright. Gonna be honest. I owe you a huge favor for this. Here -- these are technically Crimson Caravan funds, but I know they'll understand once I explain things. I'll give you a bit more if you meet me at the Caravan's outpost in New Vegas, but thanks for helping me out regardless"

"Not a problem, Best Beatle. But you agreed that you'd tell me one thing before I did this. How the hell do I get to Vegas?"

"Alright. So... I didn't want to tell you this until you'd helped me out, but... you know that thing on your left arm?"

"What, this giant bulky thing?"

"Yeah. That's got a map on it. It also organizes all of your items and stuff."

"... SONNOVAB... so I could've skipped all this and used the map at any time?"

"Yep."

"And you kept this from me just so I'd help you kill some crooks?"

"Yep."

"I hate you."

"Catch you in New Vegas, bud."

And so Ringo left Phil in the dust, as Phil narrowed his eyes at the console on his left arm. Jerk.

• • •

After taking a short nap and pondering the contents of his map, Phil decides he'd like to get a better real-life view of the road ahead. In so doing, he decides to go back to a place he left behind -- that is, the mountain where Barton Thorn's girlfriend was captured by geckos. If she's still alive, I'll save her, I guess? He also figured he'd find a few notable claims in the gecko's nest -- seemed that most people were afraid of the geckos, although they weren't that hard to dispatch. Jackson snuck past a sleeping Barton Thorn, making his way up the mountain and running into somewhere along the lines of 10-15 geckos along the way. They were aggressive, as was their wont, but they weren't really that hard to beat. A slice or two of Phil's machete seemed to do the trick, and his armor saved him from the bulk of their bites.

Phil Jackson reached the top relatively quickly, encountering the Gecko's nest. There was a half-eaten body of a girl around Barton's age, but it looked several days old. Given that Barton had asked him to save her yesterday, that struck Phil as odd. He made a mental note never to trust a man named Barton Thorn. There was also an inexplicably-still-working refrigerator, four incoherently well-placed red balls, a lookout table, a chair, the whole remains of a scavenging man, a few bear traps, and an old timey camera. Also a few boxes of ammunition, too!

Jackson sat down at the lookout table, staring into the distance. He was immediately struck by how utterly stupid of an idea it was to backtrack in an effort to see the road ahead -- instead of seeing Vegas, he just saw the cliffs and hills between Goodsprings and Vegas, with absolutely no better sense of where he was going. Smooth move, Ferguson. That said, looking at his personal map, he had a pretty good idea where he needed to go -- if he wanted to get to Vegas, he was going to have to go northeast through a mining town called Sloan (which, not coincidentally, was where Ringo's caravan had been robbed and murdered) and a patch of deserted highway.

Seemed pretty elementary to Mr. Jackson, if not a bit of a cop out. It didn't appear that there was anything remotely approaching a working car in the world as it is, but the distance didn't look like more than seven miles or so, which was absolutely doable. Probably even in one night, if he headed out now. Phil rose from his lookout, closing the dead scavenger's eyes and heading back down the mountain next to all the gecko corpses. Looking up, he noticed a scraggly haired man running up the mountain. Phil raised an eyebrow quizzically, quickly realizing it was Barton Thorn. Barton stopped.

"Your girlfriend had been dead for days. Why did you tell me to come up here?"

"Sorry I tricked you, but thanks for clearing out the Geckos. Now I can get to that stash up there... after I deal with you."

"... I just eliminated a gang. I think I can handle a guy named Barton."

"Take THIS, Phil Jackson!"

Barton whipped out his gun. Phil whipped out his machete.

Welp.

Given how easily Barton was dispatched, Phil was surprised to find that he actually had quite a lot on his person. A few hundred caps, several suits of armor, three weapons, and a magazine. Nice. Taking an inventory of his outfits after looting Barton's remains, Phil quickly realized he had accumulated quite a few outfits. Enough so that he started to take them out, one by one, trying to figure out which one was the most Indiana Jones-esque for the road ahead.

• • •

WHAT OUTFIT (OF THE FOLLOWING 1 THROUGH 6) DOES PHIL JACKSON WEAR AS HE MAKES THE LONG TREK TO VEGAS?

Decide in the comments below, or on twitter -- mention Phil Vegas to @gothicginobili or use the hashtag #PhilVegas for all responses. Leave any format-type concerns/thoughts in the comments as well. This is, as you must have noticed, decidedly a work in progress.

"Please, mister, you have to save her!"

"Nah, that's alright. Go rescue her yourself. Waste not, want not."

"What?"

Exactly. Phil Jackson parted from Barton Thorn, leaving the young man frustrated and annoyed. Jackson walked towards the main road, but stopped at an odd sight -- here, in the middle of the desert, he saw a beat-up rusted out refrigerator with a corpse inside. He leaned down to get a closer look and started cackling. The dessicated corpse was dressed in a semi-familiar archaeologist's outfit, with the tell-tale vest and the tell-tale hat. It was -- by all appearances -- Indiana Jones.

You know, when you think about it, this is exactly what would happen to anyone stupid enough to think that a lead-lined refrigerator would save them from a nuclear blast. Phil pondered. I mean, really -- the lead might protect you from a bit of the post-explosion radiation, but lead isn't some magical shield that keeps the explosion out. Why did Spielberg inspire kids to do that, anyway? Maybe this was Indiana Jones. But maybe this was some random kid pretending to be Indiana Jones, actions telegraphed by his favorite stupid movie. God. What a crock. Phil shook his head and made to leave, but he stopped for a moment. He'd always wanted to be Indiana Jones...

"This is the greatest moment of my life."

• • •

Walking along the road back to Goodsprings, Phil spied a small shack. Ever-curious, he ambled forwards -- it looked unlocked. Indeed, it was. But the sign on the door brought a pang of sadness as he walked through -- it said "Jean's Sky Diving." Jackson walked in, half-heartedly hoping that the interior of the shack would give him a sign. "Jeanie was here", perhaps? Or, better yet, "Jeanie Went There, You Can Go Find Her There, Just Go Get Her Phil." Alas, nothing but a locker full of rubbish, a few extra guns, and a strange blue-star bottle cap. Given the post-apocalyptic wasteland thing, Phil hadn't chanced upon some time to himself. He sat down and started considering his position.

On one hand, the situation didn't seem particularly grim. Goodsprings seemed like a relatively ramshackle town, but that wasn't a huge deal -- there appeared to be at least some vestige of a functioning economy, which naturally meant that there was some place in the world that was better off than Goodsprings. He'd find it eventually, and he'd make it his own -- his body felt younger and more limber than it used to, and he still had all that classic Phil Jackson guile that inspired fear into the hearts of men. He could use a few more luxuries, but he'd find those eventually. He'd make his bread. I'm an adaptable jerk. I'll be fine.

On the other hand...

Phil Jackson was not a man used to utter and complete confusion. Even in his lowest moments of coaching in the NBA, there was always some sense of broader order in his life. He had his friends, he had his love, he had his reputation. There wasn't much else a man needed in life, although the fifty-eight championship rings surely didn't hurt. He found himself in a situation lacking every single one of those essential staples. His friends were absent, and the only person he'd even vaguely recognized in this new world was -- somewhat ironically -- the man who had inexplicably shot him. And he didn't even get THAT good of a look at him, so it was hard to tell for sure whether it was Sager or not. His love was obviously gone -- perhaps she was somewhere in California, but he had his doubts. And his reputation? NOBODY KNOWS WHAT A BASKETBALL IS. There was a certain level of discomfort and dissatisfaction with each one of these realizations.

Phil Jackson had spent a long time cultivating each and every one of those staples. They were gone. He was alone, left to rely only on his own devices. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt he needed to track down Sager. It didn't really matter if Craig was the one who brought him to the Mojave Wastelands or not -- if there was anyone in this place who had the slightest idea what Phil was doing there, it'd be the first one he met and the one who shot him in the first place. Sager's a schlub, but he's not stupid. He had to have a reason to shoot me. There has to be SOME reason. In his irritation at the loss of his well-cultivated life, he'd shifted all the blame to the closest recepticle: the clowning sideline reporter who simply must have been tangentially related to his arrival.

And so, Phil Jackson was solidified in his plan. He would find his way to Vegas. First he needed a map, but he'd find that in due time. He would head out and find Craig Sager. And he would find his answers. First, though? Time to make some money.

• • •

Returning to Goodsprings, Phil saw a strange looking red man in front of the saloon. He'll know how to make money. He looks legitimate. Phil waved him down, which turned out to be completely unnecessary since the man was completely immobile in his chair. "Hello, sir. I'm Phil Jackson."

"Howdy."

"Who are you?"

"The name's Easy Pete. What can Easy Pete do for you?"

"Why do they call you Easy Pete?"

"Because the name's Easy Pete."

"I'm starting to understand how sideline reporters felt when they interviewed me."

"Howdy."

"OK, OK. Cease. What do you do?"

"I was a prospector. Now I ranch Brahmin."

"You were a prospector -- like digging for gold and silver?"

"Nah, nah -- means I poked through old buildings looking for old tech and such. Some people call it salvaging, but I don't. There's good money in it."

"Interesting. Did you ever find anything good?"

"Nope. Had a good claim once but got run out by raiders -- eventually got too old to go out."

"So... you can make good money salvaging, huh?"

"Yep."

"Do you make any money ranching? Is it enjoyable?"

"I was a prospector. Now I ranch Brahmin."

"... Alrighty then. Hey, any idea where I can get a map? I need to get to Vegas."

"Howdy. The name's Easy Pete. What can Easy Pete do for you?"

"... you know what, I'm gonna go now."

"Yep."

• • •

Phil entered the saloon, walking in on what seemed to be a very heated argument between a man dressed up in a prison uniform and the saloon's barkeep. He stepped back and watched the fireworks, ending when the prison man spat at the barkeep and stormed out, pushing Phil over on his way out the door. Phil dusted off his shirt and looked over at the barkeep, a woman named Trudy.

"What the hell was that?"

"Haven't gotten to meet you yet. Welcome to the town. Name's Trudy."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Phil Jackson."

"Cool. Anyhow, that's Joe Cobb. He's the head of them Powder Gangers."

"What's a Powder Ganger?"

"A punk, more like. They're a faction of ex-cons that go around the countryside throwing dynamite at people and scarin' the heck out of any old town they pass through. Broke out of the NCR prison a few lengths from here, then they stormed the prison and took it over. That's their base of operations now."

"The NCR?"

"New California Republic. You really aren't from around here, are you?"

"I'm not. Regardless, why was that one guy so annoyed?"

"Fools have been out putting pressure on Chet and myself to give them discounts and free drinks and stuff. Gotten rowdy with my patrons, gotten fresh, et cetera. They've been annoying, but it's only recently they've gotten violent and dangerous -- we've been helping a trader named Ringo hide out here, because apparently the Powder Gangers robbed and tried to kill him a while back. Ringo's good people, so we're bound to protect him, but it kinda looks like they're going to burn down the town to try and get to Ringo. Dunno if he's quite worth that, but we don't send people to slaughter, so we're in a bad position here."

"That's not good. Is that Ringo Starr from the Beatles?"

"No, it's not good at all. And I have no idea who they are. Still, if you could help Ringo escape, that'd be mighty nice of you. Or you could help us fight off the Powder Gangers. Or something. Also, can you fix my radio?"

"What?"

"I have no idea what's wrong with it."

"... what does that have to do with anything? Why are you telling me this?"

"I love the radio."

"I don't understand the world. OK. Where's Ringo again? Also... do you have a map? I need to get to New Vegas."

"Gas station up the hill. And no maps here, kiddo."

"My hair is white."

Contrary to his better judgment, Phil booked it to the gas station atop the hill. He'd tried to get in earlier, but the place had been locked up tight. Ringo must have recently left. Phil walked inside to look for clues to Ringo's whereabouts, but stopped and raised his hands as soon as he walked through that door -- a man with black hair was pointing a gun at him. "OK, look. If you're with the Powder Gangers, I'm going to kill you. If not, you best state your business right quick. Or just stay silent and get the hell out of here. One or the other, I suppose. Really not in the mood for games, friend."

OK, yeah. That's definitely not Ringo Starr.

• • •

DOES PHIL JACKSON HELP RINGO AND THE TOWN OF GOODSPRINGS FEND OFF THE POWDER GANGERS?

or

DOES PHIL JACKSON HELP THE POWDER GANGERS KILL OFF EVERY RESIDENT OF GOODSPRINGS?

or

DOES PHIL JACKSON REALIZE HE'S HAD A MAP ON HIS LEFT ARM THIS ENTIRE TIME?

Decide in the comments below, or on twitter -- mention Phil Vegas to @gothicginobili or use the hashtag #PhilVegas for all responses. Leave any format-type concerns/thoughts in the comments as well. This is, as you must have noticed, decidedly a work in progress.